


Chained Butterfly

by EhidnaMAD



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Abusive father Hades, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bear mom Nyx, Canon Temporary Character Death, Demisexual!Thanatos, Disasterous bi!Zagreus, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Night-born bros are the best bros, Nyx-born Incarnations are Other and Weird, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Queen of Not Giving a Fuck!Megaera, Rating May Change, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, no beta we die like zagreus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28176051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EhidnaMAD/pseuds/EhidnaMAD
Summary: The House of Hades shall stay eternally, although in what condition, is not entirely clear for now.Once prince Zagreus finds out about his birthmother, he doesn't stop his attempts to battle out of the Underworld, thus involuntarily dividing the House in two. And the longer the streak of failed attempts he's facing, the more involved everyone has to become, making a stance on where their loyalties lie.Maybe Zagreus will learn a thing or two about his reclusive Chthonic loved ones in the process, too.
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 94





	1. Watch the shell come unraveled as the blood begins to rise

**Author's Note:**

> OR, alternatively, "imagine getting your face smacked into maxed out Pact of Punishment (plus extreme measures 4) the moment you beat the final boss for the first time and how that would affect everyone in the House of Hades" the fiction.
> 
> Please bear in mind that I'm not a native speaker and this is my second full-Eng project.  
> I've studied English for a long time, but there are things non-natives may miss or slip up at. So if you notice some kind of mistake - feel free to mention it! I'd be glad to correct it.

* * *

He should not be here.

The feeling of being out of place clings to his mind, almost irritatingly, weights him down like the deafening murmurs, and wails, and screeches, and pleading from mortal souls he's abandoning for the time being. It's distracting and burdensome, like most of them. And despite all of his outward calm indifference, Thanatos has a lot more of those relatively lately. Small bits and pieces of not understanding and second-hand experience - but genuine feelings. For the most part, they are similar enough not to take notice or altogether leave them be, untouched and unimportant. Others irritate him enough to be pulled out, scrutinized, and thrown away once he had his fill of trying to grasp the meaning, failing more often than he'd be willing to admit. Not that anyone would ask, apart from Hypnos or Mother, perhaps.

There is the third breed to them, the one he is begrudging to acknowledge. Those that come back to haunt him, so much concurrent with their chaotic, distracting nature... or maybe their subject, for that matter. Those that even he, knowing full well the consequences, is reluctant to discard. Especially when their source comes barraging in, with yet another lavish gift to push into his arms like it's nothing, like it's supposed to be that way, like it's okay for him to be looking forward to those small sparkling moments.

Like it's a normal thing for someone, _something_ like him to be loved.

Here, however, the misplaced feeling he has is superfluous at best. Closing tired eyes, Death suppresses the unneeded sensation. He isn't known for being into imagining things. It's more of Hypnos' area of expertise. And yet, he can vividly envision the amount of trouble both of them could get into because of his foolishness, and it almost makes Thanatos shiver involuntarily. Him for not keeping up to his Godly duties and sticking where he shouldn't be. His reckless counterpart for undoubtedly trying to wedge himself between him and the Master's rightful wrath if he finds out.

Yet here he is, lingering in the deepest folds of his dearest Mother's cloak for far longer than he should allow himself. Long enough for mortal calls to become deafening, and start chiseling at the edges of his sanity. Long enough for Master of the House to storm past him, rust and bitterness of nightshade rolling off of him in suffocating waves, not noticing a tiny spec that stiffened in the darkness that is his by birthright.

Thanatos smolders the tiniest of smirks that threatens to creep up his unamused features, for even that could get him caught. How fitting, though, - he thinks - how amusingly fitting, that he isn't recognized by other deities through questionable virtue of once being smaller than they are. He wasn't for quite forever, now; there's definite truth to that. Nonetheless, even Gods themselves forget how they started their endless toil sometimes, so why should others' beginnings be of any difference?

In stillness, Thanathos waits as unabatingly as only Death can, scrutinously, patiently tracking another tiny spec in the Temple's labyrinth, paving its way ever-closer. Once the personification of his worries - not that he could have those, really - took a... rather flattering liking in the keepsakes he offered, following his path became a little bit less tiring. And maybe left Thanatos just a tad more reassured, although, he couldn't clearly understand what actually he is unsure about. Nonetheless, it's a good thing too, considering how much time he had to stay up here, despite his better judgment. At least he can be certain that it's not for nothing.

Speaking of which.

He taps into the void he bears and lets go of his form, just a shade of nothingness whisking through somewhere between space and time along a thread he knows far too well by now--

_\--there's still one thread of life in his body, and he hears footsteps, springy and fast, hot touch making stone beneath them hiss. His hiding spot is the same, comfy and nice, and leaves even some room to see the defiled, rotten walls of the outside, smeared and flattened to his beady void eyes. Not that the outside is of any interest to him. He catches a glimpse of his ward, a smear of gold on his cheek, green eye glistening with carefree defiance and relentless determination. There's splashing liquid and some muttering about the taste. The coughing. Yet no danger in sight or smell, or to his other senses, no, so he--_

\--comes back to his godly shell, stealing a glance in Master's general direction, careful enough not to alert him with the gravity of his sight. Thankfully, there's some denizen of Lord Poseidon's domain occupying Master's attention, all splash of bright scales and stubbornly-yellow will to live.

Soon.

Finally, snow sizzles for the second time, and Thanatos hungrily drinks up the features of the creature most impossible through all of his existence. They are too battered for his liking. Still, there's some stupid pride in watching the willful Prince march forward, no care for wounds, no tiredness, no doubts. Just bitter bite in every word he speaks, so much unlike his usual demeanor.

Maybe they are alike, he thinks, at least in something small.

The more pain it is to watch Zagreus stumble backward, yielding before the Master's relentless strikes. Who but him knows how prolonging the inevitable looks, and Thanatos scolds himself internally for seeing all the signs as clearly as the scorch marks on the ground instead of harboring any hope.

He yearns to throw himself forward, to bear the brunt of strike or two, or dozen. Unlike Zag's bleeding, living body, he knows he's sturdy, much more so than his weary godlike shell would let others believe.

A hard realization hits him that he would bear those, even if it wasn't.

It's... tied to a feeling, once again, Thanatos understands and furrows his brow in a failing effort to push it aside. He wasn't meant for those. They are distracting. Tangling. Messy. Confusing. All that he's not, he shouldn't be. He shouldn't be liking cold shivers that run through his being, his shell, his weapons once the realization settles, too much of a cornerstone to make it bulge.

For what it's worth, he shouldn't fathom what 'liking' even is.

Regardless, he shoves his inner turmoil to the side for the time and enforces stillness in his being. It's not his fight, and, after all, it's not like he even can be summoned. He knows not what even drew him here if he's being honest and what his game here is, for that matter. If anything, he needs not new squabbling between them on top of what they had before and knows enough of Zag to understand that he would not be pleased by this unfolding of events. The Prince is protective to a fault of those he came to like, regardless of the cost.

Maybe, he dwells on the thought, maybe he'll manage to whisk Zag before the Styx would, providing at least some silver lining to the bitterness. A stupid thing to offer, really, but... it's not like he has anything else to give.

Meanwhile, the point of his concerns still rages forward, with any tactics long forgotten. The glisten of a purple gem is all but a fantom in his movements, empowering each strike with a longing to bring death uncomparable even to Ares' urge to kill - yet it's still not enough. He notices as the Prince habitually reaches to his pauldron, and he blanks out for a moment, his mind clutched tightly in a swirl of feelings he dares not process.

' _Zag wouldn't dare!_ ' - he thinks, thoughts racing once again.

...he'll answer still, Thanatos knows right there.

Suppressing shiver and grip tightening on the weapon's handle, he waits for the call with sharp anticipation. It's not like him to simply rush in without rhyme or reason - that's Zag's domain to... simply jump into any action that captivates him at the moment, be that catching water denizens or bloodshed. Yet he fails to come up with any tactic of how can he change the tide of what is almost lost. No matter. Surely, he will come with something once the call reverberates through the air! He has to, right?

It never comes.

And for the first time of the heated skirmish, Zagreus falters, never reaching the Companion.

A moment's hesitation costs him dearly.

He hears the toll - the only thing Thanatos allows himself to acknowledge hating with a burning passion. Gritting his teeth and steeling himself, he denies any answer to that what made him in existence, feeling a thread - _his_ thread, the real one, woven into Zag's life through Mother's mirror - snapping and falling down, just ash, much like the Prince's ever-burning laurels. Another toll comes rushing shortly after, ripping through his very being with shameful ease.

There's no more left, he knows.

He knows too well.

Death always does when Life shatters.

* * *

The snow beneath him is cold and soft and soothing in an odd, intimate way that Zagreus both craves for and is disgusted by. It's wrong, it's not the same, he knows it shouldn't be. If anything, his slowing heart is screeching those facts to his wavering mind - and yet he yearns for comfort this fake familiarity can provide him.

Any comfort would be nice at this point, really.

Maybe, he thinks hazily, trying to block out hot, pulsing pain in his triple-broken arm, maybe trying to block that jab of his Father's spear was a bad idea. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to block about anything, considering how he had trouble adjusting to Aegis in its bull-rush form, still. Despite his best efforts, Zag failed to stave off even Asterius' charges. He was used to dodging those for quite a while, after all. To a varying degree of success, but still, a task that was quite different from what he tried to pull off.

His thoughts stop abruptly, as Zagreus feels twitching, hungry piercing points of Gigaros pressed to his neck, just shy of breaking bruised, swollen skin. It feels so familiar it's almost comforting, in a disgustingly-twisted way. A bitter sting of failure ever-present, so much so it became the background of his existence. So frequent, it can almost disguise itself for being natural.

Revolting.

Zagreus lets out sharp, spasmed breath - as much as broken ribs would allow him - and slowly, softly lets go of his seemingly unbending drive to reach the surface.

It's nothing. Just a short moment of weakness, true weakness, allowing himself to be tired and hurting and doubtful. Soon. The red of Styx will wash it all away. Not all, and maybe not completely, and maybe it actually won't, but he closes his eyes regardless.

It's not like he is gifted with any other option.

He could've thanked the Gods for his vanquisher stands above him, utterly oblivious to the actual defeat his unruly progeny experiences in those briefest moments of real downfall. However, Olympian Gods have nothing to do with that, so he saves his breath. Undoubtedly, his last - for now.

And then Gigaros pulls away.

"You aren't even worth the glory of being felled in a proper battle for all the trouble you've caused me lately, boy," he can swear he _hears_ Hades' deprecating smirk. At least his godly Father has more dignity than to spit on him. Physically. If anything, for now - since Zagreus would not stop till he reached the surface. Again. And again. And then some.

If only he could re-find the inner strength to believe that he could actually do it.

Abandoning his current turmoil, he tries his best to think only of his Mother. It helps, but only briefly before he has to come to terms that he had failed her, too. He promised to come back and didn't. Too small for his tall tales, like always.

Okay, this clearly doesn't help.

So he thinks of... outside the Temple. Of the world that he saw so little of. Of snow, sizzling underneath his feet and falling on his head or shoulders or childishly waiting hands. Of the sky above his head, unending. Of air, forever rushing, changing, sweeping. Of odd and chirping sounds that he heard a couple of times. Of blinding glory of Helios' radiating chariot that he cannot help but awe at.

Of everything that Underworld is not.

Even if he died a couple of times from it before, never reaching his Mother's cottage from wounds and bleeding, and Demeter's sharp cold, he still found the surface world to be breathtakingly beautiful. In a literal sense, even. If Zagreus could only see the sunrise he came to like so much, he wouldn't even feel so bitter about yet another failure.

Alas, no such luxury for him.

"So I would not be the one to end this farce," he's almost startled as his Father continues, voice booming from farther than before. Then footsteps, leading to the Underworld's entrance, by the sound of it.

Zagreus can't help but open his mismatched eyes and blink, confusedly. Did Father decide to... just leave him there, at the brink of freedom, to die of bitter cold and misery, with his goal so close he can almost reach it with his broken hand?

Would it be... a peaceful death, he catches himself on the thought.

Of course not.

Probably?

It would be nice, though.

"I believe you've become closely acquainted with some of my servants," Hades' voice booms again, and, against his better judgment, Zag almost jerks to cover hidden keepsake. He's lucky his arms fail him, there. "I'm more than sure you have some matters to discuss."

Then all-too-familiar hissing of the summoning portals catches his attention, and his last hope for today seems to shatter. Of course. Why would Hades ever go easy on his disappointment of a son? Zagreus lets out a bitter sigh, absentmindedly hoping it wasn't loud enough for Father to hear.

The mewling and growling fill his ears, causing him to wince from repressed anger. Numbskulls. Obviously. Why would Father summon anything but those?

Not for the first time in his life, Zagreus silently wonders if Than's sisters dislike him a tad too much and for what, precisely.

* * *

He needs not to look to know. The moment the Master of the House leaves, marching back into the depths of his Kingdom with the pose and certainty of the unchallenged ruler, the smoldering rust of his presence ebbing away with every pace he takes, he can see clearly. Doubly so, as one of almost-his threads is still tucked safely in a small pouch, hidden well behind the thick plate of three-headed pauldron the Prince wears on his shoulder.

Only someone as... unorthodox... as Zag could've thought up such a hiding place for a companion.

He feels the wretches inch closer to the broken body. They are deliberately slow in their movements, taking time to circle like vultures - the only birds seemed to remain on the surface, or so it appears to him. All of their moves were dragged out, lazy even, and Thanatos can't help but grip the scythe's handle tighter as realization swims in his head, paired with his vision.

It's not even an execution.

It is humiliation, nothing more.

Still, the wretches are not the ones he's currently concerned about, as his ears pick up the screeches and wails he knows too well by now. Thanatos grits his teeth and lowers his head, reminding himself again, and again, and again with a cold detachment that they are still his kin, his sisters by blood and by aspect. To no avail, it seems. Even before, they were at odds, but now... No argument, neither real nor imaginary, can prevent him from despising each and every one of them for what they are going to do soon.

For what they have been doing for quite a while by now.

He had known about it for too many times, when even once was way too much to process. Zag is a god, despite not knowing his domain, despite his ichor being different, despite a long, long list of other things. His essence wouldn't vanish, his thread is ever-so-unending and wouldn't snap completely - surely, not when Death himself is so against it. After all, it's not like it didn't happen before, far too many times, in his opinion - the one that no one ever asked.

It doesn't mean that process of separating said essence from the body it inhabits has so far been anything but disgusting, and that it understandably revolts everything that Peaceful Death is.

It also doesn't mean he has to tolerate his gnarling sisters, the same and opposite of his aspect.

The scythe slightly trembles in his ever-steady hand, but Thanatos is too far gone to notice. Only the ravaged body remains in his sight, still bearing breath, still struggling against impending doom, pools of the spilled lifeblood making snow around it sizzle.

They were drawn to it, drunken by it. Fiery-red as it could only get, he was told, as the bleak brilliance of Styx itself, as the worthless glean of richest crystals, as the scorching seeth of Phlegethon. He never understood. To him, it always shimmered with the purest gold radiance, putting all of the other Gods' ichor to shame, its blinding brightness matched only by the tips of the Prince's hair.

He could understand the appeal, really. It's not like he never had the urge himself. Yet unlike them, he was only willing if he was sure of other's consent - which Zag should never give if he hadn't lost his mind completely.

Not that Thanatos would ask. Ever, in their shared eternity.

Screeches draw near, and he closes his eyes. A futile attempt, for he needs them not to keep seeing. And even if he did, that wouldn't smolder the sour knowledge he possesses.

It's not the first time, he tries to reason with himself, and most likely not the last one, either. He shouldn't be here in the first place. There's work to do, even more so because of this uncharacteristic falling behind the schedule, and he has a pace to keep if he wants not the Lord to doubt him - not to mention that mortals' wails and cries became borderline maddening. It's not like he can help here, anyhow, despite the sudden overwhelming urge to do just that. And many, many other reasons he tries - and fails - to use to battle feelings that he should have scattered, like he was supposed to, long ago.

After all, Death was never meant to have those.

Let alone keep them, despite its insatiable greed.

And, Fates forbid, act upon them.

_...he can feel ash in his mouth, lately acquainted more with a taste far worthier..._

This is not his battle to interfere. It was not before, and surely it isn't now.

_...the silver gauntlet that's fashioned by his Mother and helps him to remain what he is not, cries out in the tiniest of crystal laments and shatters - now as redundant as his scythe..._

Lord Hades would surely know.

_...the divine shell his Mother taught him, and he grew to tolerate, peels off of him in flakes and shearings..._

He wasn't summoned on other's free will.

_...scythe slithers from his lax fingers, soundlessly disappearing before it can hit the frozen ground, shifting into what it really is..._

Mother Nyx would not be pleased.

_...does he even have fingers, now? Does he even need to know what meaning those redundant things possess?..._

Zag might see him just like the others.

This thought stings, surprisingly more than even the previous one, making him falter for the briefest of moments, chained wings fluttering in the swirls of the wind, ever-changing and restless, not unlike the Prince in question.

Then the moment ends, and numbskulls open their maws as hungrily as wailing Keres, reaching for something that clearly isn't theirs to claim.

He leaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> There's a long road ahead, with ~10 first chapters being almost done and Hades knows how many pinned on the plotline.  
> Fates know, I'm obsessed with Hades the game, and I really, really hope this fic will turn out better than the last one.  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated but not required. Though, I will try to answer everyone.  
> If anyone would comment at all, that is :D  
> Also, there will be a small sort-of easter egg in the names of the chapters. I wonder if anyone would be interested enough to find what they are.  
> Cheers and have a wonderful day-or-night!


	2. Tracing of horror on snow-crested ground

* * *

It must've been a trick of his undying mind, trapped in the broken, hurting body, a simple blur of fading vision. Yet Zagreus can swear on the name of his newly found birthmother that the abomination that lunged forward from the darkest shade of the Temple of Styx is real. Pale turquoise, and deepest violet, and once-gilded silver, and cold ashen - all swirling and seething with indifferent, sharp lethality, sprung to action.

How could void have a shadow of its own? How could it snap its jaws, how could it bare fangs, as real as they weren't? How could it have wings, innumerable even when compared to shades in Tartar? How come its apparent wrath sounded like sough of shattered gems and Lethe's murmur?

His dying imagination broke off its bounds, it seems.

And yet, to his surprise, the atrocity was more than real, as wretches crumbled into pools of dust from its mere presence. Though it's not them the creature aims for, it seems. The snow is ripped apart, just as the ground beneath it, flakes of both flying through the air as the abomination swipes at something, and Zagreus can almost make it through his freezing lashes.

Are those... grey feathers falling on the snow beside him? But whose?

There's something he catches with peripheral vision, yet when the dying Prince turns his hurting head, it's no longer there. The creature lunges at the empty space still, and out of nowhere, Zag sees new feathers flying, scattered as if silvery claws reached their target and struck something he fails to see.

He can almost make it out. Something... almost familiar. Almost. It crawls in his skin, it makes his hair bristle, but what is it?

It takes a lot of focus and even more of much-hated stillness, yet finally, he can catch it underneath the slithering rustle and chain-y chime that accompanies the abomination's movements. A... sound? Yeah, that seems to be something between a sound and some gut feeling that fills his being and makes him furrow his brows in confusion. Is it wailing? Shrieks? But whose, the wretches are long gone and other than him and the horror, there's no one in the crypt!

Another feather catches his attention, floating down through the air, tattered, bone-grey, and dull. It would've fallen right on top of his face, but the void is quicker and covers him. The feather turns to soot once it is as much as brushed against the creature, and Zagreus can't help but wonder if getting ripped to bits by Numbsculls was a preferred outcome. Sure, it wasn't a pleasurable experience by any means, but it was a _known_ unpleasant experience. He knew what it would be, he knew how Styx would draw him in and bring back home, but... _this_?

The Prince is not much for worrying - he sees no worth to it, besides, has other certain someone to do that for both of them - yet he cannot dismiss an unpleasant thought that crawled into his mind and made itself comfortable there. Because for all his unbending will and optimism, for once, he isn't sure he will come back at all from the Pool of the great House of Hades if _this_ is what kills him.

He doesn't have enough time to reach any conclusion. The battle he had failed to witness ends as abruptly as it started. Whatever the creature fought to drive away from its apparent lair had fled. The numbing shrieks he managed to acknowledge die out in the distance, a tone of pain and aversion in them. The Temple's ravaged more than ever, and they're left alone.

Well, that might be a problem.

The void pulsates and flickers, its sky-cut wings folding in around it. The claws of silver still glisten as if drenched in something not completely present in reality, adding to Zagreus' repressed concern.

"Hello, mate," he starts with as much cheerfulness as one can manage while having broken ribs and facing whatever is primordial horror that's beside him. His voice's raspy, breathy, barely a voice he's known for, but that would have to do. "I get it that you, uh... _upset_ for some... Khh! _commotion_ in your home, but..."

Zag's words are cut abruptly as he coughs up blood. Oh, it ain't good. Maybe he talks some more, and doesn't have to worry about being killed by the creature? His wounds will do that for him.

The abomination stays still save for its smaller wings fluttering and losing starless feathers. It has no eyes, none that Zag can see, for that matter, yet something tells him, it's intrigued by him - he feels the attention, it makes his skin crawl. The startled Prince stares back, trying to catch his fleeting breath, and ponders how come it never showed itself before. After all, it's not like it was the first time he battled his way to the Temple of Styx. It wasn't his first attempt to indulge in some patricide, either. Why would it show itself only now?

Maybe because they never lingered in it, he wonders. If he won, he rushed or limped past the crypt as fast as his burning feet would allow him. If he lost, well... There was no need for Father to stay up here, too.

He clings to his guess because he has nothing else to hold onto.

"It won't be... long now, okay, mate?" he tries, feeling blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. The void grows darker, thicker, turquoise bleeding into the violet in thin misty swirls as its wings flutter. Is it angry? Zagreus has no way of knowing, so he blurts out. "Just... let me see... the sunrise. _Please_ , mate? Just that and I..."

Another coughing fit. It's cold. So cold. The Underworld is never cold like that unless he has Frostbitten horn on him instead of the Pierced butterfly, but that barely ever happens lately. The Prince grits his teeth in pain and forces words out. They feel like thorn vines he tries to get through his throat for whatever stupid reason.

"And I won't... be of any bother, mate, you... have my word. I won't... be here. Okay?"

Apparently, it isn't. The creature slides closer, its ashen folds and void-filled swirls pooling around Zagreus, who can only flinch but has no strength in him to even squirm away. It makes the horror pause as if contemplating its actions, before reaching out to touch the Prince's forehead with a tiny whisk of smoke and stardust. Surprisingly, the timid touch makes the pain that pounds in his head ebb away, and Zagreus blinks in confusion.

Is... is it trying to help him and not just being territorial?

He eyes the abomination, suddenly reminiscent of another, a far more vast and ancient presence that also decided to aid his struggle on a whim. And smiles, as genuinely as his broken body would allow him. The creature almost backs away from him at that, and he can't help but chuckle.

A poor decision, really, as he finds out when it devolves into another coughing fit. Ugh. How much blood his body even has?

Assured that he isn't so afraid of it, the void somehow pulls its claws and fangs into itself, leaving only threads of nightly void and ash-edged feathers. Its innumerous wings are tied in silver chains that shine brightly even in the dimness of the Temple and add some calming chime to each of the creature's fluent movements. It blends and bends and somehow scoops Zagreus off the ground, remarkably careful for something so appalling and with such ease as if he has no weight at all. It turns to the exit of the Temple, the helpless Prince in its hold that's cold, but not frozen, and slithers forward, pausing before the ancient gate. It's still as if trying to perceive the task at hand. Or wing. Or whatever else appendage it happens to possess.

Is... it trying to give him his last wish and let him see the sunrise?

Perhaps it can move no further, bound to its place, not unlike Master Chaos and their realm, Zag muses, carefully watching it. It would definitely be something if this primordial abomination would simply throw him out of its home like a trespasser that he is! A way to die, indeed. But no, it was only steeling itself, it seems, before pushing itself forward, into Greece.

There is something very wrong with it the moment they cross the threshold of Temple's borders.

It's so unlike the way that creature had moved when it rushed to his side back at the Temple of Styx, Zagreus ponders, his mind slowing down as much as the pulse in his body. So much different than its swift, precise movements and swiping swirls. So unlike of thousand wings flapping, of innumerable claws ripping through the frozen bones of the earth with ease incomparable even to the brutality of Prince's last fight. Ashes on the wool, ripped feathers turning into the ever-lost grains of sand. Howls and hisses of snapping threads as the rising sun's rays as much as brushed against the writhing, agonizing void that clawed its way forward. Inch after inch, carrying the fallen Prince of the Underworld ever closer to the cliff he came to favor.  
Slow yet determined. Lingering yet unavoidable. One could say...

 _Inevitable_.

Huh. Who would've known that Than's way of speaking rubbed off on him far more than he imagined?

Not having much to do but slowly die and being carried, Zagreus lingers on the thought of his reserved lover. Would Thanatos be able to find him after all this trouble and drag back home, in scorning worried silence? Or did he get himself into a mess so deep that even Death Incarnate wouldn't be able to untangle?

And then the cliff comes to his blurry vision. The same small frozen spot that Zagreus could never muster to pass by despite the morbid knowledge of how scarce are moments that he has up here. The same spot he had died on multiple times if he knew he couldn't crawl any further. Still, it always was beyond him to dash by as he so often does, ignoring mostly anything on the road to his revered goal. And so, he tends to spend at least a few moments on, basking in the light he never knew, his ever-restless mind drifting over uncle Poseidon's gleaming realm and further still.

The creature, whatever thing it is, is suffering immensely for each and every moment in the morning's glory. Threads snapping, shadows waning, it hisses and cries in quiet softest lament. And yet it stubbornly refuses to back away, inching ever closer to the precipice.

How reminiscent is its struggle to the dying Prince! Maybe for that, or perhaps because it pained him to stay witness of unneeded suffering, helpless to be of any aid, but Zagreus is overwhelmed with sorrow. His struggle and his current failure affected only him, all in all. The pain of death, ever consistent and ever violent. The shame of failure despite all of the aid. The ever-new smirking humiliation that his Father never failed to invent. His deprecating laughter, booming in the gloomy halls of the Great House - they were Zag's to bear and no one else's.

Until they weren't.

The Prince closes his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself. He doubts that the creature would realize that his anger is caused by inner turmoil, not by its apparent attempt to help him.

He was so careless, so sloppy. Reckless even! And it was rich, considering it is he, who calls himself as such. In his exasperated attempt to best his Father, he nearly grew desperate enough to call the aid of his lover. The same lover he shouldn't have dared to drag into the fray between him and the Master of the House in the first place. The same lover he already involved as much as he did Nyx. And for that, each time he heard how Father had the sheer audacity to address Night Incarnate as if she was merely a shade that came to his desk with a petition, his heart shattered a bit more. Not enough to stall his attempts completely, yet enough to sting far worse than wounds that even the Champions of Elysium gave him.

Than has always been so careful, so secretive. Insisted on keeping their conversations concealed, on never bringing his help up back in the House. Zagreus can't blame him, really. He risks just as much as Mother Night does, yet has no power over the realm to back him if his role in Zag's escapes is to be revealed - only his long and devoted servitude. Yet after his own defiance, the stubborn Prince knows how little it can matter, and Hades is not a God known for his mercifulness.

At least his pauldron survived the fight far better than the Prince did himself, and Mort is surely safe and sound, tucked inside the thickest of hollowed skulls. Zag absentmindedly hopes that Companion found his new hiding spot at least somewhat comfortable. He did promise Than to take pristine care of him, after all. Just as the jeweled butterfly he barely feels now, pinned to the inside of his chiton. An odd precaution, really. Truth be told, the Prince rightfully doubts anyone, save for Nyx and maybe Hypnos, would understand the meaning and magnitude behind it, second only to him having Mort.

He doesn't want to risk it, still.

And doesn't want to use the Call either, he decides after some musing. The abomination, despite its abhorrent looks and shuddering soul-stilling presence, showed none to him but kindness.  
It's funny, in an odd, bitter way how much he relies on others in his selfishness. At first Nyx, with her irreplaceable mirror and agreement to reach Olympus. Later all of his Olympian kin - flawed and vain as they are, they still lend their aid to him, again and again. Then Charon with his wares and quiet, ever-reassuring grunts Zag understands only partially and only when he hears them. Not to mention the unyielding cheerfulness of Hypnos, greeting him back and taking off the edge he unavoidably has once he fails, time after time again. Or his always too-short run-ins with Thanatos, who never truly understood yet accepted his choice, eventually, and came to his aid anyway whenever he could steal the time.

And now here the Prince is, burdening some primordial bystander who took pity on him and consequently bore the brunt of his yet one more failure. How pathetic he must've looked to earn such aid.

* * *

It... hurts.

He's too material, too in the mortal realm to be like this. To be here in such a state. Interloper. It wouldn't be too bad in itself, but with a body so torn it leaves trails on the ground, it's... agonizing. He can't even glide as he should, not daring to touch what isn't of his claim, but merely slither. Like a thoughtless beast. Can't be helped. He was stretched too thin before, wails of mortal souls crying for him in a deafening cacophony. Now he's almost too exhausted to exist, barraged on all fronts with smells and calls and cries and temptations that are too much for his senses, doubly so after a fight fierce enough to forget why it even started.

Would that there were fewer chains on his wings...

It matters not.

It takes all of his being and something more to keep him stalling forward instead of reeling back, to a place where such as he belongs, where he can heal. Such as he should never be here for too long. It's just too much to process. What even is he, he does not know. He had a name, once. Probably. He doesn't bother to remember. It matters not.

What matters is how much he _yearns_.

How much everything hurts because of it.

He stubbornly presses onwards, remembering not why should he hurry, what is there to happen if he is seen like this. Some hindrances, he guesses. As if those could worry him right now. As if he could properly evaluate them, really.

The shifting body in his wings catches his attention, and he almost opens his eyes to see what is it that Zagreus came up with, even now. He manages to catch himself on the attempt and cut it short, to his relief. His Prince needs no added burden to his waning existence in this unseemly realm.

Ugh. Why would anyone like it up here? Let alone Zag?

He feels hand ruffling through his ever-falling feathers. The feeling's weak and barely even there, but he diverts all of his attention to it. Even if it's merely a spasm of Prince's dying body, he wants to ease it, still.

It's not, he realizes, as Zagreus turns his face to him, glossy eyes looking into the void his feathers show. He tries again to raise his less injured arm and grasp onto something, and the softest wing is swiftly there to meet his grip. He cares not how feathers crumble and turn to sand, he only cares that they are night-filled wool, not blades that cut what has to cease existing.

Zag takes a few breaths, trying and failing to talk. He's too far gone, too weak, and yet...

"I'm s... sor...ry," his Prince forces out, liquid gold dripping down his chin. His smile is small, apologetic almost. Not pained, at least, he managed to amend that. And yet, words make him falter, make him tremble with all the might that hidden right behind them. The eerie force Zag himself might not even realize.

He is at loss about what was said. His Prince hasn't recognized who aids him, and yet... and yet... and still...

Once more, he fails to understand.

How can Zagreus-- how is he capable to sympathize with... with... whatever his real form even looks like to the Prince?

Feathers fall on fresh snow. His greater wings grow anxious, chains chiming, tolling, lamenting their suppression. His eyes are tossing, churning, ready to burst open.

He can break free. He can reverse the toll.

It matters not that this would rip him open.

"T...thank... you," his Prince breathes out with what seems like the last of his resolve, startling him out of grim thoughts. Zag's mismatched eyes are way too bleary. Despite most of his efforts, time is running out. It will not - not until he has at least a semblance of his strength to hold him, here, but--

Zagreus wanted to see the sun, he suddenly remembers, and rushes onward with all the resolution that such being as he can have.

How easier it would have been if there were no distractions. No cries of mortals, no sensations to stagger him, no allurements to wake his eternal hunger. He wonders, detachedly, if the chariot of blueish steel he so despises would topple over once the beasts of burden come close enough to sense his unhinged presence. He wants to laugh but lacks remembrance of what it is, and how should he, and why.

Another shifting of fading embers in his wings catch his attention, and he slithers forward with renewed endurance. Claws bent inwards till they are but the softest folds of stardust and sky-cut feathers, he holds his greatest treasure, trying fruitlessly to not add to his Prince's suffering. He'll grant him the dying wish he shared, unknowing to whom he told it.

It pains him to realize that he would rather grant some others if those were only in his powers. If only he could _understand_.

Oh, how the Fates must laugh right now! How can _he_ of anything that exists to be of any comfort? Let anything to someone who is _dying_?

An irritating glint of chariot grows higher. The time is running short along with his strength. He digs his claws into the frozen ground and pushes onward, feeling even the solid rock crumbling, knowing full well that nothing will ever grow in this place, now.

It matters not. Gods want to kill this realm anyway, it seems. He'll pay for ripping life that wasn't sown but cares not for it. Not now. Not now, not now, notnownotnownot--

 _He yearns_.

Mortals know nothing but one thing about him.

He knows no stopping.

He does not.

* * *

The creature falls in folds beside him, cool, and reverent, and silent, like a luxurious drape that was dropped by a careless hand. It's more delicate than any of the sheets in his chambers, more enveloping than the waters of Styx he grew so accustomed to. Its countless feathers fall into an ashen trail, caressing his cooling skin, rolling off of it in silken waves, and it's soothing and lukewarm and tender with familiarity to something precious his fading mind fails to remember.

His heart remembers, though.

It's strange yet fitting that only an abomination would be there to mourn for someone like him, Zagreus thinks as his hurting eyes fight a failing battle to remain open. He wants to see the golden chariot of Helios rising over the waters fully, yet it's the creature his gaze inevitably averts to. It fills his struggling, fading mind with questions far newer than the brink of dawn he had seen at least a few times before.

How can the void be so gentle, shimmering with the softest glimmer of gilded silver? How can it seem more splendid than the sun disc he so stubbornly waits to see?

How come he has a chance to see it anyway - or any bit of the surface world at all - considering the wounds he has?

The day burns brighter, and the horror lets out the tiniest of whimpers, so much like the snapping of thousands of threads, of ambers sizzling to mere coal, of waters' silent lament as it turns to ice, of ash flakes being grind to dust. As the red-stained snow starts to glisten, Zagreus almost understands and tucks his face into the asphodel-smelling void, pale-purples swirling against the bled beads of turquoise before his failing vision. And the void answers, gingerly ruffling his blood-soaked hair with swirls of ash, silken touch brushing against his forehead, warm against the Lady Demeter's icy wrath.

The same void that holds him with such reverence and determination, seemingly revolting against its very purpose and nature.

Simply for him to see the sun - the same sun the void apparently hates so much.

His thoughts are so faint they're almost foreign to him, yet only now he catches the fleeing, fading glimpse of recognition. Maybe because there is no mind to shush it now, only a heart that knows while it still beats.

"See you home," Zagreus breaths out into the longing void. Or so he thinks, as his voice long has abandoned him, unlike his other, far more devoted and cherished partner.

Somehow, despite his failures, it's not so scary anymore to close his eyes, to stop the fruitless struggle to remain conscious, and the failed attempt to flee doesn't taste so bitter. If anything, it's gentle and almost too serene.

After all, willingly gifting his last breath not to condemning malice but to tender, enveloping yearning is almost like a kiss.

And they never have enough of those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> And again, big kudos to Zennfir for helping me out!  
> Those first chapters were mainly finished so I've been only polishing and proof-reading them (way too many times probably), so I'll update a bit more frequently now, just to see if people will be actually interested in the story. Later, updates might become less frequent, but we'll see once we get there.  
> Initially, that was going to be it, with something sweet and nonsensical in the end, looking like an epilogue or something, but ideas kept creeping back and I gave up on keeping this thing a small bittersweet oneshot. Time will tell if I made a giant mistake, I suppose.


	3. Death ain't what it seems, oh, everything's a mess

Red of Styx embraces him, like a craving lover, who cherishes and adores him, but whose feelings he cannot reciprocate. He opens his eyes and sees the bubbles floating all around him, rushing somewhere.

Aha, so that's where up is.

Still, he lingers, uncharacteristically so, transfixed by the feelings enveloping him. There's the shimmering of the light, soft hot torrents that rustle his hair. He looks around but sees only endless red, swooshing, twisting, and turning around his frantic movements. It feels... familiar, in an odd way. Like there should be something that he forgets.

Styx around him pulses in rhythm with his heartbeat, seething, boiling, cradling him. Lingering and yearning, it's full of shadows and meaning he can feel existing but cannot fully grasp.

Endless. Close. Shimmering.

The Prince blinks, a shard of memory revealing itself in a familiarity that is as similar to it as it's opposed.

The abomination!

Zagreus startles as if abruptly awakened, and finally, finally, the need for air starts crawling into his restored body. Much like an itch to move, to fight, to _live_. He kicks his feet, wondering absentmindedly whether they are aflame here, too, or not, and pulls himself up along the bubbles. Even if no one ever bothered to show him how to swim, eventually, he got the gist of it. Just go where bubbles lead, and you'll be fine. And if not, well, it's Styx anyway. What's the worst that could happen?

Still, Zag would rather never fall into Styx or Lethe somewhere outside, obviously. He tried drowning, once, and it didn't turn out to be fun - even less so when he battled into Asphodel only to find it burned to a crisp by Phlegethon for the first time. But his capabilities are more than enough for the House's Pool.

Welp. If it isn't an allegory for his life, that came up as spontaneously as it is unwelcome, he doesn't know what is.

It's funny how the Pool is bottomless one second and so shallow it takes but a few steps to climb out of it the next. Zagreus shakes blood off of him, much like he had seen Cerberus did it a few times when he got wet, unfortunate for everyone around him. His hair is still damp, and he probably smells like blood, but that would have to do, for now. Everyone in the House should be used to him dripping blood everywhere by now, anyway.

He really should pillage some crystals next time he does a run and order those towels, shouldn't he?

Ticking it somewhere on his priority list of renovations somewhere below "get Than that recliner just to hear the suppressed amusement (or would it be honest confusion? Ugh. It was hard to read him properly, some times worse than others, but he digresses now, right) in his voice" and "get Cerberus the chewy toy the best boy clearly deserves", Zag throws the thought out of his head.

Especially when he notices Nyx. When Night Incarnate is in the Great Hall, it's never a good thing, he knows, but this time Hades is still up in the Temple of Styx, so he doesn't have to hear them arguing, at least.

Mother Night is floating gracefully before Hypnos - and it's odd enough to be startling. Against his usual customs, the ever-sleepy God is wide awake and hurriedly speaks, gesturing with an almost frantic speed. His list and quill dance around him in the air, like souls around a Soul Catcher, diving away from his arms if the gesture he makes is too big. Even more surprisingly, Nyx is listening carefully, the ethereal beauty of her visage darkened, and Zagreus finds himself frowning in turn.

Is Hypnos in trouble again for his naps, harsher this time? But why is Nyx here, then, instead of him coming to her?

Weighing between eavesdropping and slipping by as politeness demands, Zag sneaks a peek of the balcony that overlooks Styx and lets out a tired sigh, sight gliding over the fancily carved railing.

During his attempt to battle out of the Underworld, he ran into Thanatos. Or, well, it was more of the other way around. Floated into...? That didn't sound right. Anyway, they had their customary competition, and Zag was _so_ compelled to lose just to let Than liven up a little after a streak of losses, yet eventually decided against it. He'd never demean other's efforts like that. After all, he knew the feeling of being underestimated far too well. And what was the point of having those sparrings if they weren't trying with all their might, right?

Well. As much might as Death Incarnate could put into those without repercussions.

What matters, though, is a quick parting kiss they shared and the promise that Incarnation made to meet him in the House. Maybe even more, if time would allow.

Apparently, he had too much work. Again. No rest for the wicked, Than would occasionally deadpan, though, only someone as ignorant as a mortal would call him wicked, in Zag's opinion.

Finally, Hypnos notices the Prince, who is still unsure whether or not he should try to sneak past them, and hurriedly catches his list, checking it. Nyx notices too, and turns to him, her features subtle, as always, but there's a weight to her gaze that can only mean trouble.

"Come, my child," her voice lingers as she gestures to Zagreus, and the Prince comes forth, trying and failing not to think of the empty balcony. Than simply has too much work, like he always does. Death being missing and his family being so worried is just a coincidence. It has to be. "We need your assistance."

"Nyx? Hypnos?" his gaze shifts between them, unsure whom should it rest on. Their worry, both faint and too open, seems to be contagious, as he feels his brows furrowing. "Has anything happened?"

"We fear that something might have, yes," Mother Night agrees but doesn't have much time to add anything.

"Natural Causes," Hypnos mutters as if it explains everything before perking up from his list. His eyes glisten - bright, golden. Hopeful. It's a desperate hope if he dares to speak over Mother Night. " _Natural Causes_! Have you seen him? You must've met, right?"

For a second Zagreus feels disappointed. Considering the question, there is nothing in Hypnos' scroll regarding that abomination. A shame, really, he hoped he could find something about it, but that particular mystery would have to wait. Especially considering the brought up topic.

He eyes a bunch of curious shades peeking around and decides to be a bit less upfront about everything. Not that he wants to bring the topic up, anyway.

"You really should check your list, Hypnos," Zag shakes his head, ignoring the unpleasantness of cold blood dripping on his shoulders as he does. Then grunts. "I'm pretty sure I've died fighting, um, _Redacted_."

By nothing short of a small miracle, Zagreus manages not to wince while saying this. His escape attempts had always been a touchy subject, given how many of his friends, former friends, mates, or sometimes even lovers had gripes with him about it. However, when the number of his failed escapes grew past half a thousand (probably much more, by now; he stopped checking the Scrying pool when it was five hundred sixty-third attempt and never found the courage needed to look into it ever since) with little to no success, the novelty lost its sharp edge. Even Meg started to come around lately, warming up to his constant "surrendering of contraband", though, she still calls him a bloody idiot to his face. And Fury's probably not the only one who thinks it, just the one brash enough to say it out loud.

"I wish it was _Natural Causes_ , but seriously, it can't be," he sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. "I'd have to win for it to be the case."

He knows that from experience. It's not like he hasn't won _at all_ , because he _did_! Blood and Darkness, he _did_ , and he'd _make_ anyone eat their words if they claimed he didn't. However, more often than not (basically always, if he's honest with himself, save for two marvelous occasions - and that's counting the first time!), he was left within an inch of his life, having barely enough strength to limp to the precipe over the Ocean to see the sunrise. Sometimes he couldn't manage even that, waiting for Than's toll and cold, caring touch laying face-first in the snow and not being able to do anything but look how it melts from the dying heat of his blood.

Death Incarnate has always been... surprisingly mellow and caring in those moments, never once showing his irritation with Zag. Just scooped the dying Prince into his lukewarm arms, glaring Styx away, and held him till his heart stopped beating. Seldom, when Zag could barely claw his way out of Temple before succumbing to his wounds, Incarnation would even murmur some words of comfort, short and stiff as they were. Somehow, they still helped.

Once, when the Prince collapsed a mere step out of Temple after finally, _finally_ breaking a losing streak of almost a hundred battles and besting Hades, Thanatos kept kissing his eyes until Styx pooled around them, tactfully pretending he didn't taste the salt and that his lover's grip on him wasn't desperate.

Zag silently pushed an ambrosia bottle in his hands after that, when he came to his senses in the House. Death just sighed, set it on the balcony's balustrade, and pulled him closer, allowing him to lean on his side and holding a supportive hand on his waist. It was one of the most silent meetings they had, yet, somehow, feels like one of the warmest.

Nyx tilts her head to the side, ever so slightly, hearing his short explanation, but it looks like she got more out of Zagreus' words than even the Prince himself. She lightly glances to the side, following his gaze, and... oh, it's almost funny how quickly the Hall becomes all but abandoned, save for gnawing Cerberus and melancholic Orpheus who doesn't seem to care. Even Hades' angered roar couldn't achieve such a feat as swiftly as a slight wave of her royally-purple velificatio.

"The list doesn't lie, it simply can't. It's just a self-filling list of all who died, such a thing simply isn't capable of coming up with a lie," Hypnos crumples the thing in his fingers as he speaks and snaps his attention to his mother. "Then where can he be if he's not with Zag? I hate to sour the mood here, Mom... Mother Nyx, but it was the last idea I had! It's hard to track him down even on the best of days, with that shifting and swooshing all around the world, and this is unfortunately not one of them. I know he needs his space, but not like this! Not like this, not from me. Not after the last time."

Zagreus feels his heart pounding, almost too loud to hear words. He knows, oh, he already knows why the Incarnation is so worried. Blood and darkness! He's just as worried now, himself.

"Who should be with me?" he demands, not sure if he wants to hear the confirmation of the knowledge already twisting in his mind. To become _really_ worried. Not today, not ever. Not regarding the name which he knows will sound. "What's going on?"

Hypnos musters a smile, but there's a crack to it.

"We can't find Thanatos."

The Prince feels his guts churning. _Fear is for the weak_ , but... Who would've thought that trying to block Gigaros with Aegis is, apparently, not the most unpleasant experience in his recent memory?

"What Hypnos means is that he cannot find his brother's dream anywhere for some time now," Nyx explains softly, clearly seeing his turmoil. It's a distinction without much difference, in Zag's opinion, but he knows better than to say it out loud. He'd snap at his Father, but it's not him, thankfully, so he keeps quiet. "That is why the cause of your last death is so peculiar, my child."

 _Natural Causes_ , he thinks, feeling his lips go cold. A technically peaceful death. Thanatos had to get him from that creature, maybe fight it off, considering how possessive it was. Being Death Incarnate, he couldn't have any complications with that, could he? There's no way it can be tied to his untimely disappearance.

Right?

"We met, not so long ago. In Elysium. It was the third chamber, maybe fourth, not sure. They tend to blend together. So he can't be missing for too long," Zagreus responds, being able to be straightforward now, but hushing his voice still so that Than's secret is somewhat secured. Then pauses, unsure what to say. He could add that he had summoned help in Elysium, but that wouldn't add anything but a handful of minutes. And he doesn't want to reveal he has Mort. Not yet, at least. He will, of course, if the situation will command it. The horror, however... Yes, it was kind to him, but it could be the suspect. "There was... something I met before I died, but I'm not sure what it was."

Now he has the undivided attention of both Hypnos and Nyx. It's nowhere near as asphyxiating as when Thanatos stops being reticent and finally looks at him directly, but combined and with the added strain of worry becomes quite close.

He's honestly surprised how intense Hypnos' gaze can even be.

"Something you met, my child?" Nyx probes when he's silent for too long. "Not someone?"

"I don't know," Zag sighs, tearing fingers through his damp hair. "It was sentient enough to show mercy to me when I needed it since I lost to Father. But I... wouldn't dare to call it 'someone'. That was..."

He trails off, not even knowing where to start and how to describe what he had met in the Temple. The Prince kept calling it 'creature' but was that word true, applied to what he met? He could say that dracons or gorgons were 'creatures', Lernie was a 'creature' (and a giant murderous hissing sweetheart once you know her better), satyrs and vermin were 'creatures', but... to call _that_ a mere 'creature'? The word doesn't feel right, doesn't fit, like a glove that's too tight. If anything, that abomination made him sense something far closer to...

Zagreus blinks, alarmed by realization.

...divinity?

"My child?" Nyx's voice startles him from his thoughts, and Zag shoots her an apologetic smile.

"Right! Sorry, tried to find the right words to name it."

"Maybe you should try describing whatever was the thing you've met? Perhaps Mother or I would know what you're talking about," Hypnos supplies one of his pieces of advice, surprisingly solid this time.

"Right, you're right, mate," Zagreus chuckles awkwardly before tearing through the knots in his hair again. Is it a nervous habit? It might become his nervous habit. "It was... I don't know, really. It understood my speech, that was for sure. And it had claws and fangs, but so are many things down here - although it's nothing like I saw before... It looked like it shouldn't exist, but it did? And wings! Right. I remember wings, mate. Lots of wings, feathers as black as the depths of Tartarus. I think... there were chains on them, too."

Hypnos and Nyx share a look, but Zagreus doesn't really pay attention. How can he even remember so much, given the condition he was in? He thought he'd get only the faintest of glimpses, but the more he thinks of the encounter in the Temple, the clearer it becomes. The fight with something unseen. The feathers, so unlike the one he received from Hermes - long and ripped, and covered in myriads of tiny scales that shimmered with colors if they caught the light just right. The silent, almost devoted reverence with which the abomination held him. How soft its wings were, surprisingly - and they shouldn't have been, as Zag remembers clearly that they sliced through a solid stone pillar without any resistance, much like it was merely air.

Honestly, it wasn't a being but a bunch of opposites, stitched together, somehow.

So the Prince tries to describe what happened - if not for his adoptive family, then for himself and voices his thoughts.

"I'd call it a creature, but this word doesn't do it justice. An entity? A presence, maybe. Reminded me of Master Chaos, a little bit, but it was far more present and... material? Even though it looked like it shouldn't be. But it helped me," he pushes, trying to convince his family or himself that the creature couldn't harm Death. "It... killed Father's wretches that he left to finish me off, and then fought with... something, I don't know what, really. There was nothing there, but it looked like it... was battling with something. Invisible, maybe? I think it was fighting, at least. And it helped me, despite being the most hideous and repulsive thing I've seen in my life, so it can't be that bad. Right?"

Hypnos suddenly snorts and smiles sheepishly when Nyx as much as gives him a side glance.

"Sorry, Mother Nyx, it's just funny to hear that when he had seen vermin and satyrs, and I hear those stink like there's no tomorrow! Hard to find something more repulsive," Sleep Incarnate answers cheerfully, but the Prince has a creeping suspicion his chortle wasn't caused by that.

"Never said satyrs weren't repulsive," Zag frowns. "They are repugnant but comprehensible. That thing, whatever it was, looked as aberrant as it can only get, mate. Like it wasn't supposed to exist at all. It's not my first time ransacking Father's domain, but it's the first time I met anything like that."

Hypnos chews at the tip of his quill, much to Nyx's silent disdain. Per her usual custom, Night Incarnate is calmly observing the scene in front of her until it would require her intervening.

"Don't know about that, Zagreus," Sleep muses, letting the quill go. "Maybe you just weren't looking? Underworld is a big place."

"Why would I look for such an abomination?" the Prince frowns again. "I have other matters at hand, mate. Like escaping a place known for being inescapable. Or finding Thanatos, now."

"My point exactly," Hypnos grins, nodding, but there's some odd amusement to his grin. "Too bad that thing didn't appear sooner to help you, huh?"

The Prince bites his lip so hard it bleeds but manages to hold his tongue and doesn't snap back at Incarnation. He _knows_ he's helpless. There's no need to rub it in like salt to a wound.

Obviously, he wouldn't say that when Nyx is within earshot.

Luckily, there's another point of this conversation to focus his attention on. Far more pressing, in fact, that his self-worth issues.

"If neither of you knows what that abomination was, maybe it did harm Than. 'Natural Causes' is him taking me back, usually, so he had to fight that thing off of me," Zag frowns, not sure what he frowns at - Hypnos' levity, the fact that he doesn't seem to treat the situation as he should, or Nyx's silence. "We have to find him. Somehow. We can't just leave him like this!"

"Worry not, child," Mother Night gently places a hand on his cheek and makes him look into her eyes. There's a faint smile on her features, as reassuring as it is concealing the knowledge she obviously has but has no desire to share with him. "Harming Death is not an easy feat to accomplish. I would always find him and bring him home, safe. There is a way to call him, after all."

'There actually is,' Zagreus thinks as he smiles back, heart pounding. He almost feels squeamish underneath Nyx's gaze but... She is the Night. She probably knows about Mort anyway, he talked to her about Chthonic Companions before, that was already a confession, almost. If she wanted - or thought it necessary - she'd brought that up.

Right?

Stubbornly, he shoos the thought about her not knowing that he'd die on the surface, implying that even she, in her ancient wisdom, isn't omnipotent.

"Thank you, Nyx," he says because he means it and because it's what he has to say. Even if he doesn't like her omitting things to him.

"I'll try to find his dream again," Hypnos adds, quill fluttering in his nervous fingers. "It has to be _somewhere_."

"Do that, my son," Nyx nods placidly, her starry hair glimmering in the candlelight. "And inform me if you do. Immediately. Are we understood?"

"Yes, Mom," Hypnos eagerly nods in return from the recliner but notices the subtle exasperation on Night Incarnate's face and fumbles to amend that. "I mean, Mother Nyx. We are! We totally are understood. I mean, I understand. I'll tell you if I find anything. But sweeping the whole dreamscape will take time. Even for me."

"We have this time," Mother Night reassures him and disappears in a flash of glistening starlight, glowing wings of the seal fading in the air.

Zag is staring at the place that she's been for a long moment before letting out a begrudging sigh (mostly as a way to stir his thoughts away from an uncomfortable realization that he, apparently, has developed a... specific habitual reaction on that type of teleportation, and by the Gods, that's embarrassing) and rubs his face.

"Wish I could do that."

"Eh, not as useful as it looks. Besides, you'd need Mom as your birthmother to do that, which you kinda don't," Hypnos shrugs and then asks, head tilted to the side. "So, are you going to take off again?"

Zagreus looks at him, almost offended. Thankfully, that and the irritation he feels definitely helps him to switch focus.

Well, that, and there was no infamous ' _guh-dong_ ', so his... reaction wasn't as bad as it could've been to begin with.

"No, not before we find him."

"Just checking," Hypnos shoots him a toothy grin. "You know, after the last time you took off while he was away."

The Prince flinches, immediately forgetting about his potential embarrassment. Another needle at his guilt, as if he doesn't have enough already. Sleep probably notices as his smile changes in tone and becomes softer, more apologetic.

"Aw, come on, I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I mean, more than you already do. No need for that, from the looks of it," he tries. Glancing back at Hades' throne, he scribes something furiously in his list, nods to himself, then turns back to Zagreus. "Say, you're bad at staying in the House, right? So how about you take a snooze. It'll help you pass the time while Mom and I search for Thanatos!"

He understands that Incarnation means well but cannot prevent himself from seeing those words as another jab at his helplessness. There's only so much he can do, really.

At least, as much as Hypnos knows Zag can do.

And it's just the cover-up he was looking for, really.

"Maybe you're right, Hypnos," he nods tentatively and snorts when Sleep all but lightens up because of his pointer being taken to heart. "I'll give it a try. Just don't forget to wake me up if Than comes home, okay?"

"Right after I tell Mom, you have my word!" Incarnation waves cheerfully at him, stretches with a yawn, and curls on his plush recliner. "See you, Zagreus."

"Take care, mate. We don't want you gone missing too," the Prince replies to the sound of soft snoring and shakes his head in disbelief. Hypnos is being Hypnos, even at times like these.

He all but dashes into his room, feeling as if Mort burns his shoulder through the pauldron.

After all, he, too, can do more than just sulk and wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!  
> So, I suppose the plot has officially kicked in? :) Wonder what would Zagreus find out by that Call, hmm.  
> I really hope this chapter doesn't come off as an exposition dump, because, by the Gods, I feel like this thing is 4 chapters short of the full extension of the exposition xD  
> And yes, I know that 'velificatio' is more of an ancient Roman thing, but it's used to describe Hellenistic art too, and the game isn't shy of taking some liberties, so the long story short, it was the best term I came up with to describe that light-purple ribbon thingy Nyx has because I don't think it's a scarf and 'that light-purple ribbon thingy Nyx has' didn't really fit the text well.


	4. Heed my word, dream maker, life taker

Barraging into his room, Zagreus almost-trips over the Heracles' weights he had commissioned, and curses under his breath as he bolts to the bed. Then pauses. Then blushes and backs away into the room, rubbing the back of his neck and then his cheeks, trying to will the color off of them. And then groans "don't you dare to judge me", feeling the heat under his fingers. Probably to Mort. Sometimes he likes to talk to the stuffed rat, pretending it's Thanatos instead (yes, he may be lonely; _that_ lonely, yes; yes, he wouldn't acknowledge that to Than either).

It has been a rather long time since they had longer than a couple of minutes for themselves, sure. And they _did_ have some particular plans when they parted ways, but... talk about _awkward_.

He shakes himself out of embarrassment. Now it's not the time for this!

Right. Right. The Call.

Gingerly, Zag fishes Mort out of his pauldron and inspects the Companion thoroughly, seeking any sign of damage. It's his custom before placing any Companion in the Keepsake Cabinet to let Darkness refill its threads, but, well, he's extra careful with Mort. Fortunately, he doesn't find anything, and there's even one Night thread remaining in him from his previous escape attempt. Lucky thing, too - he doesn't have to wait for it to renew, and Zagreus had been notoriously bad in dealing with waiting even in the best of circumstances. 

Those aren't them, obviously. 

He clutches Mort, takes a big calming breath (which he wouldn't admit), and strokes his chipped ear for sheer dumb luck. 

"Hey, Than?" he tries.

The air of the room stiffens, darkened and cold, but nothing more happens. Zagreus nervously licks his lips, forbidding himself from feeling discouraged as he stares back at the Companion's void-black eyes. 

It's not that something is wrong with Mort (hopefully; he doubts Than would be _too_ pissed at him, now, but he promised to take care of him and doesn't want Death to be disappointed in himself). Clearly, he's just... doing it wrong! That has to be it, right? He's known for fuckups, after all. According to Father, it's the only thing he's good at, even. And Thanatos never appeared when he carried Mort and just... mentioned his name in passing, right (that'd be really awkward on multiple occasions, too)? So it must be something wrong with him. 

Please, let it be something wrong with him. He's used to that, at least.

He doesn't want to think of other implications a failed Call might carry. He really, really can't start processing that. Shouldn't, even. 

So he doesn't, for the sake of his sanity, and tries his best to think instead. When he really needed Death's help, he... probably sounded... desperate, in a way? In a bad enough spot to rip through Companion's thread, at least. Those were finite, after all. Sure, sometimes he'd stumble into a spindle and snatch it from Charon wells, but that required a certain amount of luck, and he didn't always have that on his side. Or obols that he didn't always have enough. 

But now Zagreus is in the House, and while the place doesn't feel like home, exactly, he's _convinced_ he is safe here. Everyone he loves dearly and who loves him in return (well, almost everyone) is here most of the time, and though he'd hate to have them deal with anything dangerous he had brought upon himself, Prince acknowledges they'd rush to his side. Besides, there is a nugget of... assumption, sort of, in his mind, that the most dangerous thing in the House is his Father - and even he wouldn't stoop so low as to physically harm his unruly progeny here.

(Hades tried - once; Nyx bore witness to that. 

It ended as badly as it could, and all Prince allows himself to remember is the reassuring warmth of red quilted cloak on his shoulders as Hypnos hugged him desperately and the side of Than's face as he peeked out of the room, his frail, childish form barring any entrance; the contrast could've been funny; it wasn't.

He had never seen Death with such expression before or after; scorn was so prominent he actually bared his teeth; he was both a predator ready to leap into the confrontation at the slightest provocation and a guard beast.

He remembers the Underground flashing in black and white, shaking just like his hands, like his swollen lips, like he was.

He doesn't like it when this particular memory rears its ugly head, so he represses it where it belongs.)

Zagreus shakes himself free from the memory's grasp and stares into Mort's void eyes. Somehow, it makes the lingering uneasiness ebb away. Maybe it's the promise of aid, of someone out there looking out for him. 

That must be it.

Safety. That's what prevented the Call.

Dusting his barely-used acting skills, Zag takes another breath, pondering for a moment what to say, exactly, before crying out - as raw and urgent as he can manage:

"Than, _help_ !"

The response is immediate, this time. 

The room bursts into purple shades and bled teals, floor creeping with blackened violet of Death's Mark, and Zagreus smiles triumphantly. He watches the glimmering wings of the teleportation seal shining in the room basked in comforting teal shimmer. As they dissipate, a familiar toll reverberates through the air - the one that Prince came to cherish much like the person whose arrival it signals. 

Yet... something is wrong, this time. The seal is gone, and Than is nowhere to be seen. The toll is longer, louder, echoing through space still, and somehow evokes the feeling of desperation instead of granting Zagreus the confidence it usually brings. The Mark is pulsating with sick violet, not the perfect circle he's used to, but a churning, swirling, agitated mass of blackness and... something else, cold and pulling, and dreadful. His feet are sputtering and going out by barely touching it, and Zag's smile dies, replaced with startled concern as he backs away. 

He nearly drops Mort when a cry fills the room, sounding like Charon's grunts - but also like shattering crystals, claws ripping through the fabric, and laments he sometimes hears in Erebus. The weirder it is to him that he somewhat - feels? understands? grasps? guesses? - what is its essence, even though it doesn't sound like speech.

A denial. 

And... pleading?

Frowning, he clutches the stuffed rat, debating whether he should bolt back into the House or summon Infernal Arm, rule of no weapons home be damned. 

Shadows of the room pull together, the toll cuts abruptly - and everything disappears in an unusually sickly-pale teal flash, leaving Prince confused and troubled even more than before. 

Wearily, he backs away a few more steps before the edge of his bed catches the back of his knees, and Zag tiredly plops on the soft mattress. 

That... didn't go as expected. 

The weird encounter, despite lasting mere seconds, leaves him wearier than battle with Hades. Zagreus checks on Mort and frowns deeper, as Companion is clearly spent - the last Nightly thread in his stitched body is ripped through. 

So the Call did work. 

Just... not as it should've. 

Maybe, Zag ponders, it is... because he's in the House and not in the Underworld? Perhaps Nyx's powers are distorting something in how Companions work? She did mention it's the conduit of the realm. Unfortunately, Prince never bothered to ask her what did she mean by that and whether there were any consequences. 

A thought creeps into his head, vicious, paralyzing, and Zag stiffens.

What... what if he _harmed_ Than by an attempt to summon him straight here? And that's why the summoning was so distorted? Death obviously _tried_ to get to him, teleportation seal and all, but... whatever came instead...

Fortunately, Zagreus doesn't have the time to stew in this thought. Not even a minute later, a ruffled up Sleep Incarnate barrages into the Prince's room through the veil of Darkness, his quill and list darting around him like angry butterflies around a Soul Catcher, voice as cheery as it's irritated:

"Thanatos, I know you're kind of in a sexually explicit part of your relationship, and I mean, good for you, but disappearing like that only to come back and have your way with Zag without telling Mom or me that you're okay is just rude! And don't you dare to shift away. In case you forgotten, we went to baths together, and I've seen you naked more time than you think I did! For reals, I deal with thirsty dreams from both of you, so," Hypnos pauses abruptly to take his surroundings and looks at Prince a bit confused. "Wait, where is he?"

"Not... here?" Zagreus replies, still a bit stunned by Hypnos' tirade, and very purposefully tries not to blush from all the implications it carries. 

Sleep Incarnate floats further into the room, looking around as if he has an idea where everything should be, but hadn't seen the real deal before (and he hadn't, for at least a few decades, maybe more). Zag does his best not to pay attention to it, trying to shove Mort into his bedsheets as subtly as he can instead. 

"Huh. I could've sworn he was here. Gods know, I'm not opposed, it's just the timing is bad, guys. In case you didn't know that," Hypnos glances around the room again, then looks at the bed expectantly as if he suspects his twin to actually be there, hiding under wrinkled covers. Zagreus just shrugs in response. He, too, would prefer that. Alas, no such luck. Incarnation snorts, winking at him yet mellows down a bit and hums, rubbing his chin. "But maybe I miscalculated, and he's in our room...? The glare was blinding after all..."

Zagreus blinks confusedly. 

"You have a room?"

In turn, Hypnos looks at him as if he grew a second head. 

"Duh? Before I got that plush recliner to positively not sleep on my best in the world job, I had an actual bed to nap in, can you believe it?" he chuckles. "Though, I like the recliner better. A lot more things are going on around it, and I miss less! When I didn't have my job, I sometimes slept through entire centuries. Can't say it was too bad, though."

"You slept for centuries," Prince repeats, still a bit shellshocked, but this part? He totally believes. 

"Why not?" Incarnation shrugs.

He doesn't know what to answer to that. Hypnos sleeps almost all the time, even on the job, so it's hard to imagine what else he'd do if he didn't have it. What Sleep Incarnate would even do besides, well, sleep?

No, wait, he's thinking about the wrong thing!

Shaking his head, Prince tries to get back on track. He's pretty sure he swept the whole House as thoroughly as godly possible (save for gardens, perhaps; he tried to sneak into them - once; he _doesn't_ want to remember what happened after his burned footprints were found) and haven't encountered any private chambers beside Father's and his own. When he was younger, he just assumed Father's chambers were Nyx's as well, but... given what he knows now, it can't be the case, can it? 

So there should be another part of the great House of Hades he hasn't been in. The one he hasn't even thought existed at all. 

Which he should've, really, in the hindsight. Night and her twins have to live _somewhere_ , right? As well as Meg, when she stays in the House, albeit briefly. However, he never entertained the thought. Whenever he runs into Hypnos, Incarnation either sleeps in the Great Hall, floating and curled in his quilted cloak, or is completely missing. Nyx is always either in her corner or missing too, out overlooking her realm. The same is true for Thanatos - he's either brooding at the balcony overlooking Styx or is gone on yet another assignment. When they were younger and wanted to have a sleepover (mostly as Hypnos' idea, really, Zag never understood the appeal; Sleep's cloak was unimaginably comfortable, though), they stayed in Prince's room. And maybe he was curious from time to time, but it never came up, somehow. He should've asked, really, but there was simply so much to process recently, with their relationship with Hades getting more and more strained, and him being fired, and all of the reveals, and him searching for Persephone, that this obvious detail had slipped unnoticed, entirely. 

Zagreus is on his feet before he can think about it.

"Lead the way, Hypnos."

"Right. Let's see if he's there before Master is back to notice that I'm not on my post," Incarnation shivers slightly from the thought. "I definitely don't want to be the one to break the news to him! I hope Mom gets back before your dad does."

"Or we find Than in your room," Zagreus adds hopefully.

"Or that, yes. Let's go."

Incarnation floats out of the room, careful not to catch his cloak on anything, then darts through the East Hall, across the Great Hall, and almost to the Master's chambers, slowing down before the bare wall in the corner of the small viewing area before the Underworld's exhibits. 

Prince isn't exactly sure why'd Hypnos lead him into a dead-end opposite to Father's chambers. To get out of shades' spying eyes, maybe? 

He looks out into the West Hall, glancing at the group of shades before the Administrative chamber's door, muttering about something among themselves. Funny how they ever gathered there only when Thanatos was away.

Achilles is nowhere to be found, too, but Zag thinks he saw his mentor's shade in the lounge hunched over the bottle of nectar he had smuggled him earlier. On any other day - or night - he'd come over to ask what ails the hero (and he will! he will; definitely; just... a bit later), but now he has a more pressing matter at hand. It feels bad, but there's not much he can do at the moment, really. 

He doesn't have enough time to ask anything, as when he turns back, Sleep takes the part of the wall and moves it away. 

Simple as that. 

And it's not a secret passageway that he knew how to open, too. The wall just gives way to his hand, as if it's not a carved stone pillar, not polished black marble but a mere cloth that was in the way. 

Zagreus must be staring at the shimmering archway that is opened before him, eyes as big as saucers. Can he be blamed, really? It's not every day - or night - he gets to see something like that, even during his pillaging of Father's realm!

"What? How... How did you do that, mate?" he sputters. 

Hypnos turns to him and blinks, confused. Then turns back to the passage and shrugs, clearly unphased. 

"Do what? Moved a drape to the side? I'm pretty sure you can do that if you use your hands, too."

Now it's Zagreus' turn to be confused. He's been here for at least a few thousands of times, yet he had never witnessed this delicate arch that looked like it was carved from a single Darkness gem. He'd remembered something like that, surely! 

He even reaches and carefully touches the twisted, crumpled pillar before it. The folded part of the wall is all polished stone and gems to his fingertips, cold and solid as it should be.

"A drape?" he forces his gaze to turn back to Incarnation. "You wrinkled up and moved part of the wall to the side like it's nothing."

"A wall? Is this how you see it?" Sleep tilts his head to the side, eyeing him funnily. "Huh! Kinda explains why you never came to look for Thanatos here, I guess. Weird, though. You were born here, you're Mom's favorite, and you're with brother now, too. In more than one way, I mean."

Hypnos' grin is too wide and knowing, and Zagreus forces himself not to look away. And, well, he hopes he's not blushing too hard, but it's not like he can just throw other's previous words out of his head. 

Maybe it's a good thing he's so restless and doesn't sleep too often. It's one thing for basically everyone in the House (those who matter, at least) to know that Than and he are a thing for some time now, and an entirely different one to be smacked over the head with an admission that someone has direct access to their intimate fantasies about each other. Especially given that this 'someone' is basically their younger brother, or at least feels as such.

Some part of Zag's mind detachedly ponders what was Thanatos' reaction if Hypnos said the same thing to him. Knowing Death, he'd probably swore to kill his twin if Sleep as much as uttered a single syllable about it when he was within an earshot.

Not that it would help much, but still.

"I thought you'd see it, honestly," Hypnos hums thoughtfully in the meantime, then shrugs and nods towards the archway. Prince follows him. "Oh well. Not being an Incarnation really sucks, huh? Not that I can imagine it, though."

"Probably," Zagreus agrees, not wanting to dig into a particularly painful topic of godly domains and areas of authority. Besides, he has the newly-discovered corridor to occupy his attention.

It's definitely different than the rest of the House, especially when Hypnos closes the wall (the drape, he called it) behind them, cutting the outside light. At the very least, it feels less material, somehow, even though his feet land firmly on the polished tiles of purplishly-black marble. They're cool, but not cold to the couch. The air is crisper, too, but not stiff, and he can smell the incense. Tall candles in gem-encrusted sconces bleed with blue and teal glow, yet it only adds to the surreality of the place, golden veins in marble shimmering and dancing, almost, in the flickering light. Prince could've sworn he can see the glistening of the stars in them sometimes, much like in Nyx's shawl or her hair. 

Or the abomination's wings, for that matter. 

Before they died in them, leaving only mist and colorful trails.

Zagreus shakes his head, tiredly rubbing his face. It seems he can't get the damned thing out of his head even when he has far more pressing matters at hand. Maybe he can ask while they just go ahead? He can barely tolerate Than's silence, so this one is actually uncomfortable. Zag doesn't want to start thinking, because he knows his thoughts will start circling soon enough, convincing him it's all his fault, somehow. And while he's half-convinced that to actually be true, it's not the place or time to get lost in that contemplation.

So he turns to Incarnation, trying to pay attention to his surroundings somewhere at the backdrop of his mind to be sure it's fully occupied. Hypnos' skin has a spectacular shimmer, here, like odd things called pearls that he had a glimpse of when he received Lady Aphrodite's boons. It's like Incarnation can finally relax fully, his posture not so hunched, his eyes soft and gleaming lazily. Zagreus thinks he sees his curls trailing behind him like mist, and his quilted cloak's patterns move on their own, but that must be a trick of lighting. 

"Where are we, mate?"

"Oh, I forgot you don't know," Hypnos grins. "In the Chthonic part of the House. The second best thing to House not being there, I must say! It's comfy, and not as bright, and not so overcrowded that it strains the senses. Honestly, sometimes I miss the fields and the black water, and how quiet it was, you know?"

"Frankly, I don't," Zag concedes. Sometimes it's he who forgets they were here since the dawn of time. Sometimes they forget he wasn't. This particular time it looks like a mixture of both. "Can you tell?"

"Oh, why, we'd need a lot more time, then!" Sleep laughs easily. Then looks up as he glides, at the arching ceiling filled with Darkness and fake stars. "It's just an imitation, really, and I don't think Mom would've bothered if we weren't living here as well, but it's comforting. Don't get me wrong! I love my job, I like you, I like everyone in the House. I like how you somehow managed to show brother what being happy feels like and how Mom's luster returned to her when she got you. And talking to Dusa about you is more fun than I had in ages! Not to mention I get to see Megaera much more often."

Prince isn't sure what he's supposed to do - to blush, to stare, or... Maybe, just maybe, to feel a pinprick of gratification that such a disappointment as he could make his loved ones' lives a bit brighter than they used to be. 

"But it's too much, sometimes," Hypnos continues. "Too much light, too much sound, too much commotion. Just too much, you know? Especially now, when the House being upside down and in turmoil is the new norm because of you. But hey! It's like telling your twin who doesn't know any better that vermin taste great. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do!"

Zagreus snorts, trying really hard to concentrate on the latter part of Sleep's words. He recently started to harbor hope that maybe he's not just a waste of space in everyone's lives. He really doesn't want to drop it.

"You made Than eat a rat?"

"Don't tell him I told you, okay? I want to live the rest of my happy immortal life with my head attached," Hypnos' grin is as impish as it can be. "But yeah! We were re-e-ealy young, though. It was before he could even speak."

"Must've been a rather long time ago," Zag ponders out loud, trying to catch what disturbs him in that statement. 

Sleep Incarnate pauses, thinking, and then eagerly nods.

"Yeah, Olympians were quite a new concept at that time for at least a few eons if I'm not mistaken," and before Prince can process that, he pulls him to the side of the corridor. "And we're here. Welcome! Feel yourself at home, since technically you are. No signing in necessary."

Incarnation dives into another arch, through a similar veil of Darkness that hides Zag's own private chambers. The arch is carved from crystals much like the ones Prince pays House Contractor with - colorful and shimmering. Ashen-green stems are entangled to form the frame and are dotted with large bright-red and delicately-white flowers with four petals each. They share a lot of semblance with those on Hypnos' belt, at least the red ones. He may have seen those at Mother's garden, too, but it was so long ago he isn't entirely sure. 

Zagreus takes a big breath, holds tightly onto his hope, and follows shortly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Wonder what they'll find in there :)  
> Writing Hypnos was such a delight. Honestly, he's such a chaotic-cheery presence. And I honestly think that he's a good brother? It's just that House of Hades as a whole doesn't really have a whole bunch of good role models? Besides Nyx, that is. And Achilles, sometimes. It's just that no one talks to each other properly.  
> There's probably going to be one more update before New Year. Not sure how updates will play out after that when I'll go back to work from my vacation, but we'll see.  
> I really hope this fic will take off.


	5. Too often, it's something we love that keeps us away

* * *

The knowledge that the House of Hades is enormous is nothing new to the Prince, who has spent much of his confined childhood trying to explore it. Yet when he finds himself in a giant chamber that's nothing shy of Elysium's Colosseum, he takes a pause to take in its sheer size. 

It... in all seriousness, at first glance, it looks like a natural cavern of Asphodel, just made of the same purplishly-black marble and oh so very quiet. But the more he looks, the more details pop out. Thin, weaved airy columns that mask themselves as stalagnates. Carvings on the walls, depicting more of the same flowers and leaves, intertwined and occasionally blooming into skulls of mortals, beasts, and monsters alike. 

A splash of color catches the corner of his eye, and Zagreus looks up and--

Oh.

Butterflies. More than Prince had ever seen in all of his escapes when he happened to run into Soul Catchers combined. Myriads upon myriads, like shades in Asphodel or in Tartarus. He thought he had seen all of the colors the world had to offer, pocketing the jewels found in the Underworld - and now he understands how wrong that assumption was. The ceiling is lost in the whimsical mosaic of bright, delicate wings shimmering in the candlelight, and it's breathtaking. 

Maybe it's blasphemy, but Zag silently declares that it's prettier and more vibrant than Iris' rainbow. The goddess wouldn't mind what she doesn't know, right?

"Pretty, huh? Brother's obsessed with those little buggers. I've heard a rumor those were sacrificed to him even, when he still had a cult," Hypnos hums, catching his stare, and Zagreus wants to slap himself immediately. 

He's not here to sightsee!

Prince frantically looks around, glancing over and not quite registering the furnishing of the room. Yes, beds, mirror, chests - whatever! He doesn't care. Not now. 

The only thing that matters is that room has no walls to separate it, and Thanatos is nowhere to be seen.

"Yeah, looks like he's not here either," Sleep Incarnate sighs somewhat dramatically when Zag looks back at him. He floats further into the chamber, pauses before one of the beds, and nonchalantly kicks something underneath it - whatever it is, it rattles and rustles as it scoots farther. Is he frustrated, too? "Shouldn't be surprised, considering he spends more time in yours now."

Zagreus feels a ping of guilt at that. He's not the only one who's worried, after all. And, well, Hypnos did mention that Than barely spoke to him before for quite a long time. He never specified how long, exactly, it has been, and now, being reminded how ancient they actually are... he's not sure what to think. 

"Hypnos, mate, I... what I mean is, we--"

Incarnation raises a hand, interrupting him:

"I'm not trying to guilt you, here. I love having it for myself, frankly. It's just that I really don't like the situation."

"I can relate," Zagreus mutters, tearing fingers through his hair. 

There's nothing he can do now. The Call didn't work, the House is empty, Nyx hasn't returned. What's worse, he's distracting Hypnos from... whatever was that place where he was supposed to look. Useless, as always useless...!

Prince's fists clench, nails ripping through the skin. He can't stay put - it'll kill him. He has to - move, run, fight, get killed. _Anything_. To get away from those thoughts. From himself. 

"I'll go on an attempt," Zag decides, blood boiling and screaming in his veins. "Ask Charon, maybe catch Hermes and ask him. Somehow."

Olympians never heard him. Hermes himself told him that much. But maybe he wasn't trying hard enough, maybe there is a way to make them hear his plea! 

And he will plead now if he'll have to. 

"Um," he hears rustle as Hypnos slugs to him and then gasps, grasping his arm. "Hey, look!"

An odd-looking starry mist shaped somewhat like a bat seeps through the wall, makes a circle above them, barely below the butterflies, and cautiously lands on Incarnation's waiting palm. Hypnos holds it for a few moments and then beams at Zagreus.

"We found him!"

So it must be a message from Nyx. 

The relief Prince feels is so overwhelming, he's not sure what to do about it. The room even feels like it's spinning a bit around him. He can finally breathe fully, and his blood doesn't feel so caustic. 

"Really? Is he okay?" he barely contains his excitement. "Where are they? Are they coming back?"

"Uh," Hypnos gives him a side glance before looking at the bat. "Looks like he's... exhausted, and they'll be home as soon as he'll be able to move without feeling worse."

Oh. 

The excited laugh freezes in Zagreus' throat. 

So... he did harm Than when he called for him. Not because of the place, or the House being the conduit of the realm, but because he tried to do something rash. The Call worked, and Thanatos did his best to answer, but... Blood and darkness, how tired is he exactly if he _failed to shift_ ?! Thanatos shifted instinctively, sometimes due to something as simple as struggling with emotions! He had to be at the inch of his life to fail at something so integral to him. 

Wanting to lash out at his Father is not an uncommon occurrence for Prince lately. However, he had never thought he'd ever want to bark at him for overworking his servants to the point of exhausted collapse. Perhaps he hoped Hades is so neglectful only to him. Hadn't he asked Thanatos not to overextend himself last time Prince was them interacting?

"Can you send the message back to them, mate?" Zag asks, hopefully.

"I can try?" Hypnos shrugs.

"Please thank Nyx from the bottom of my heart," he takes a breath, contemplating how to word his apology better. "And... tell Than that I'm sorry I'm impatient as always."

Sleep Incarnate raises an eyebrow at him and frowns a bit:

"What, you're not going to stick around for them to actually be back?"

"No! Surely not, I'll wait for them to come home," Zagreus reassures hurriedly. "He'll understand what I mean, mate. Can you do this for me? Please."

There must be something in his expression that makes Hypnos smile reassuringly at him before looking at the message-mist-bat for a couple of seconds and letting it go. The odd creature makes another circle around them before disappearing through a different wall, like a mirage. 

Zagreus wishes he could do that, too, but now it's more important the message itself will be delivered, regardless of means. So he smiles, feeling content and somewhat dizzy. Now that the pressure of worry and fear is lifted, the weight of emotional exhaustion takes its place. 

"Thanks, Hypnos," is all that he manages.

"Anytime, Zagreus," Incarnation winks at him before grabbing his shoulder lightly and carefully nudging him to the archway. "Let's go, I'll let you out before Master knows you were here. And I know I proposed it before, but how about you take a snooze before they get back? I promise I'll shove brother your way the moment he's back!"

Zag nods to his chatter, not entirely paying attention, his mind swinging back and forth between crushing relief and creeping guilt.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Hypnos finds him back at their chambers once he crosses the veil of Darkness for the third time today. Although, they were, in reality, his chambers for quite a while now, since his twin existed only to do his job and worry over Zag lately. 

Thanatos strives to fit his form inside the great chamber, perfectionist he is, though Hypnos sees easily what a deal of strain it causes him. To his bleary eyes, it's just as plainly on sight as some whisps, claws, and smaller wings that fall through the floor and walls, careful as always not to ruin the ceiling. 

He's quick to notice a set of maws with fangs gnawing on one of the chained wings that's closer to the farthest corner. A thin trickle of ichor is pooling on the marble tiles by now. 

That's not good. 

But he knows he shouldn't just... point it out, as he usually does. They may have drifted apart a bit, but he knows his twin well enough to guess the outcome of that terrific action quite too well. 

He doesn't want to wake up again without a comforting chill of other's presence in the background of his mind. 

"Glad you didn't take off," he starts cheerfully. As if startled, Thanatos jerks, chains rattling and claws ripping through black marble. Wings fluttering and feathers falling, he sinks his fangs deeper into the chained wing. The dribble of ichor thickens, not separate drops now but a constant flow. 

Oh, that's definitely not good. 

No one can ever sneak up on Than, and yet...

He suddenly opens his eyes - all of them of gilded silver, glazed, and hurting - and looks at Hypnos, intently for the first time since the last chains. Thank Darkness, the Sleep barely needs to breathe and catches himself quick enough not to reel back. However, his twin has already realized his mistake and looks away, wings of starless void covering his ashamed gaze. 

Hypnos doesn't hold the grudge, though. They haven't been shellless in what feels like two eternities of dreams, and Than's shell holds back the most of his imposing presence. He can be forgiven for getting used to allowing himself at least some side glances when facing others. 

Especially since his twin wants to forgive. 

After some sibling-appropriate retribution, of course. 

So Sleep Incarnate sloths forward, grabbing one peculiar object from the bedside table along the way. 

It better work. 

<I hope you don't mind the intrusion,> Than starts before his words are minced into a surprised garble, as Hypnos wholeheartedly smacks him with a hairbrush. 

"This is for making me worry when I couldn't find your dream anymore," the other Incarnation announces gleefully while making himself comfortable in the air. The mass of clawed feathers before him shifts, unsure, and Hypnos adds another smack, harder this time, aiming for the closest of the chained wings. "And this is for making Mom worry and look for you."

He pauses and smacks the brush the third time, missing one of the eyes by a hair. A good thing, too. He'd miss that hairbrush if he did hit it. 

"And that's for making the younger one so worried! I thought he'd collapse on me, like, honestly. What if he didn't believe that illusion was from Mom? Who would've talked to Hermes? You can't just shove Charon his way and call it a day-or-night all the time, you know."

Death bares fangs around all of his eyes, but purely out of habit, there's no bite in gesture. Claws rip through marble with alarming ease, revealing the smoky underbelly of Darkness that creates it, yet this is merely a byproduct of brother's thoughtful humming. 

Poor Dusa, if she's forced to do something about those marks. Maybe Mom could, given her absolute will over the Underworld, but at the same time, why would she bother with something like this?

<I didn't mean to,> Thanatos offers after a few moments. And adds a brief second later, as much of an olive branch as Hypnos ever saw one from him. <I am sorry for you waking up and me being completely missing. I'm aware that you... don't like it.>

An understatement, really, but it's enough, for now. After all, Thanatos cannot feel regret - he admitted it himself, a long, long time ago when they were much younger - but he can understand the concept enough to know it instead of feeling. He usually cannot feel pretty much anything, according to his words. Hypnos doesn't really get how it works, but he's content with it so long it's working. After all, he cannot fathom having no need to peacefully doze off all the time but knows a certain someone who can barely grasp the concept. Or another certain someone who's overdue some sleep for at least a couple of centuries, now. 

Their loss, really, he's convinced. 

"Welp, just so you know, you still did, in case you haven't noticed," he scoffs, yet softens up and reaches to the closest patch of wings, starting to brush starless feathers, the tiny scales on them shimmering under his touch. He does so for a couple of moments and then offers one of his bits of advice. "Have you tried not worrying your family sick? Even Eris was alarmed when you snapped out of existence as you did."

Whisps of the void snake around and cling to his fingers as he does. So Than actually misses him too. Hypnos is surprised, although he wouldn't like to admit it. 

One of the gilded-silvery eyes closes, sinking into the void, lulled quietly to sleep by his actions. The other twin grins, ruffling the feathers under his touch. Maybe others know Thanatos as an entity unfazed by basically anything, but only he knows how to calm him down if he isn't. 

And how to rile him up the wall with just a couple of words, too, probably. Comes with being twins, he thinks. 

It's reassuring to see some confirmation that their bond is simply strained, not broken. And it has been drastically better lately, now that Hypnos found his own vigor. 

<Looks like I haven't,> his brother agrees diplomatically after another pause. <I'll apologize to everyone properly once I'm... presentable.>

He's still clawing himself, though, and it's not out of shame for his past actions, Hypnos knows. So there's something more about it.

Honestly, he'd rather fall into the folding chilly mess of void, ash, and stardust and have the greatest nap in eons, reminiscing about how they used to cuddle to sleep when they were younger, eyes and tendrils of mist tangled in a warming, cozy swirl, but... He knows too well the talk's not finished. 

It's not like Than to lose control like this. 

What's even more troubling is the fact that it's not like him to spend so much time beyond the realm of the living and the dead, in the abyss where no one but he can survive and to which none have access. Something drastic had to happen if he was forced to take respite in the deepest recesses of his aspect. 

"So what made you break your shell completely?" Hypnos asks gleefully instead as if they're merely discussing why there's so much of seething bluish-white and smoldering golden hue in all of the other's memory-dreams as of late. And he certainly will bring that up again. Maybe a bit later, once he has enough evidence to make the seemingly unfazeable being quiver in his presence. For now, though, he raises a finger instead. "You know the rules, we cannot be without shells if we are to remain in the House, why, you were the one who always grabbed me by the whisks and reminded me of that! And now it's me who can pluck your feathers, something must have happened, right?"

Conterproductively to the simple question, clawing becomes deeper, worse. Ichor is glistening dimly in shallow puddles. His twin one takes a long pause before answering as evenly as only he can present something like this:

<I had an argument with our sisters.>

It takes all that he has for Hypnos not to drop the brush, though, the horrendous damage on other's wings suddenly becomes much easier to understand. 

"The Fates?! You wouldn't pick a fight with _them_ , would you? I mean, even Mom avoids that! If she can, that is. You don't even have enough in common to have something to fight about! Well, save for Atropos, maybe, but even then, why would you do something so stupid? It's not like you."

There's a short hiss, like dying stars crumpling from the night sky in a thin thread of light and color. 

A chuckle? Really? 

<I haven't lost my mind, Brother,> the void murmurs, as it shifts so Hypnos would have it easier to reach its folded silvery claws with the brush. When the twin doesn't fall for the distraction - who Than thinks he is to fall for that? Zagreus? - he sighs with the sound of a broken rhinestone. <The younger ones Ares adores so much. We happened to have a disagreement on the terms of my job. I merely wanted to prove my point that I know those better.>

Ah. That makes sense. 'A fight with something invisible', right?

"Your job, huh?" Hypnos hums thoughtfully, absentmindedly brushing the offered claw, and keeps talking for the sake of it. Another span of eyes closes, lulled by the forgotten familiarity of the touch, and his skin stops crawling, finally. "It feels like everything revolts around our job for you lately. I know you measure your pride and worth in it, and you think it helps us, but haven't you considered a possibility that maybe it can wait, sometimes? Or maybe that you shouldn't take it so seriously?" 

And sure enough, Thanatos riles up again, threads of stardust tensing underneath the twin's touch and forming into ashen fangs. 

<I've already abandoned too much of it,> he snarls back, fangs snapping in the air. It would've been scary if they weren't. Well. Them.

 _'It really does boil down to Zag, then,'_ \- he thinks, not sure what to feel about it. He only knows he can't say that. Not yet. Not unless his twin admits, himself, which he probably won't. 

"Aren't you considered the best of Lord Hades' underlings? The one who's never late and with a spotless record? The one to whom everyone else is compared to?" the other twin shrugs off the untimely sting of memory where the Master of the House would repeat time after time again that he should be more like his brother. Lord Hades clearly didn't know what he was asking for! Two Thanatoses would drive everyone in the House up the wall and down the Styx in a matter of **_hours_ **. Instead, he glances at his twin with an amused smirk. "Or maybe there's something I don't know about your latest schedule?"

There surely is, but he'll let his brother retain some level of dignity. Mom wouldn't be pleased to chase Than to the edge of the realm twice in a day - or night - simply because Hypnos managed to embarrass someone who had no feelings. 

<I need to think,> it's not a question, yet he hears the unspoken request. They've known each other since the dawn of time, after all, and Than is wise enough to speak directly about what he wants from him. 

"No worries there, take your time," he scoots closer to the fold of greater starless wing, chains on it shining in stark contrast to the endless void underneath the scaled feathers. "I positively have a lot of work, here! So much so, that I'll definitely need a power nap after it." 

<If you so wish.>

There's a long pause after that, filled with a few dozens more eyes closing, hushed by the humming of an ancient lullaby they both grew up with. Thankfully, Death doesn't comment on his singing voice - it's in tune with their Mother's, and, frankly, it's not a compliment someone might think. But it's familiar and soothing in a way that only something so raw and unrefined can be. 

They may be twins, but Hypnos feels better for each of the gazes smoldering out and falling back into the void that feathers contain within. After all, not even Incarnation, let alone God, can bear the full unhinged magnitude of Death's presence without the correlating discomfort of it. Sure, much like with everything else, Than does his best to keep that one in check, but there's a reason for the chains on his wings that Mom willed into existence for him to remain allowed into the House. 

<I should've done more,> Thanatos states matter of factly long after. Hypnos stops with the brushing, afraid to miss even one moment of it because he feels, he knows it's not his usual job his sibling is talking about. <I should be doing more. I. Want? To do more. I think.>

Yep, that's Prince's influence for sure. Leave it to the most impossible God in existence to teach forever detached and listless Death Incarnate how to want something. 

Or how to feel anything at all, for that matter. 

Oh, it's too good!

Hypnos grins like there's no tomorrow and returns to brushing with renewed vigor. The closest eye moves towards him along one of the wings and looks somewhere beside him, careful not as much as skim his silhouette, silently questioning the upped gaiety. His poor twin, positively brilliant in everything but social graces, clearly hasn't realized what exactly he had just said.

And to whom.

That's even better than those dreams he asked to make! Oh, this is going to be so good. 

"Well then," Hypnos chooses to ignore the glance, steering the conversation in a completely different direction. "It sounds like you have a plan already, therefore, you have no need for my advice, so I'll get to it that you can actually leave our room without getting scolded by Mom!" 

The mass of clawed feathers swirls beside him, some of the fangs sinking into the void-filled wings, and Hypnos huffs. Right. If there's something Thanatos is agitated about, it's getting on Mom's bad side. 

Luckily, he knows just the needle to distract his twin. 

"You know this was far easier for me and much more therapeutic for you before you had your last pair of wings chained. When your feathers were longer, remember? Who would've known it would affect your shell, too!"

His twin groans with enough irritation for the closest wall to crack, but he finally, finally stops clawing himself, and the maddening sound of ichor dripping comes to a softer drizzle, then stops completely, once wounds close. 

<Not you too.>

Hypnos smirks brighter. The bait was swallowed hook, line, and sinker, with the addition of at least a few miles of the beach the stupid fisherman was standing when he caught Typhon instead of a trout.

"What, I'm just voicing my thoughts. And if they just so happen to correlate with Zagreus', why, are you trying to tell me your beau has a bad taste?"

<And here I was, trying to come up with the most genuine way to tell you I'm grateful for you warning me about Zag,> his twin huffs with exasperation, the sound of shattering gems echoing in their chamber. 

"I'm ready to listen to the song of praise you're about to sing me, brother dearest, for saving you from being revealed by your beloved," Hypnos sing-songs and snorts. "Though I have to admit, I had a really hard time not laughing my head off as I watched you scramble to hide under the bed, greater wings and all. You could've just shifted away."

<I said I _was_ going to thank you. Not anymore,> Thanatos curls into a tighter ball of fluffed up wings. Would that there was no thick guise of restrained killer intent around him, that blushing would be adorable. <The toll would've revealed me. And yes, Zagreus does have notoriously bad taste. He eats food from the floor, drinks from satyr fountains, and I swear I saw him trying to take a bite out of a Centaur heart I gave him.>

'Gave him'. Interesting. And much, much more worrisome, if Master finds out that one of his subjects he perceives as loyal is actively scheming behind his back. Hypnos knew, of course, that Zagreus and his twin were meeting in the Underworld. Yet knowing Than, he simply assumed Death still tried to convince the willful Prince to get reasonable and come home - or, well, get some time with his beau. All in all, an utterly thankless task, and totally fitting for someone who had spent past millennia or so dutifully dragging a steadily increasing number of dead souls into the realm. 

Thanatos he knew would never step away from the rules.

This one... this one has been doing it for quite a while, it seems.

The thought is as disturbing as it's untimely, so he concentrates on the present instead. He'll think of that later, when brother's yet-unborn dream wouldn't dangle right in front of him, bright and glimmering and being just the perfect target. 

"Oh, he'll grow out of it, I'm sure!" Sleep's smirk becomes absolutely rascally. His twin glances at him, tensing. "I mean, look at you! The embodiment of cold divinity. Who would look at you and think - yeah, that's definitely the guy who nibbled at Charon's oar and his twin's toys when he was younger. And how can I forget The Rat Incident? Clearly, you two are a match made by the Fates themselves!"

He manages to dodge the swipe of a great chained wing with experienced ease, laughing, as primary feathers barely snap him across the forehead. 

Whatever happens, it's always good to have his brother back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I loved writing Hypnos' and Than's dialogue :D Maybe it's just me, but they've got just the type of sibling energy I have with my relatives personally? Used to have, at least.  
> Was it only me who got weirded out with the House of Hades not having any rooms for anyone but Hades himself and Zagreus? I hope I'm not overdoing it with the twins' room. Of course, Nyx's room would be far more abstract, but we don't have the reason to go there. Yet.  
> I'll try to squeeze one more update before the New Year and going back to work. Happy holidays everyone!


	6. 'Cause you're fearless in your love, devoted to compassion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!  
> What's a better treat on New Year's day than some banter? :D  
> (so the chapter is dialogue-heavy)

An all-too-familiar toll, that's softer than usual and somehow sounds unsure, startles Zagreus awake. He jolts up, bleary eyes blinking as he desperately tries to wake up fully, to take in his surroundings. Did he fall asleep? How did that happen? Where's Mort, he's sure he was holding the Companion before. Talking to him (to Than? he's _sure_ someone was listening to him). Was he that spent emotionally that he shut down or was it Hypnos' doing to ensure he actually stays in the House...?

Any questions the still-groggy Prince has come to a screeching halt when he sees the figure that's sitting on the bed beside him. The Incarnation would definitely look gloomy for anyone else, especially with his scythe hovering menacingly just shy of grabbing distance away - but not to Zag. He notices the tiny, awkward smile in the corner of the other's lips, the gentle glisten of his golden eyes as he almost looks back, the fact that his himation's hood is down - all of the tiny clues that help differentiate genuine emotions and polite acting. 

"I hope you don't--"

"Than!"

' _He's back, he's home, thank the Gods he's okay!_ ' - is all that Zagreus can think of as he lunges himself at the Incarnation and tackles him onto the bed. Much like he always does, Thanatos allows being clutched and pinned down. He even goes to the effort of 'oof'-ing like he actually breathes, and acts as if that tackle forced the air out of his lungs. This isn't remotely true, but he knows Zag appreciates it when he pretends he does, and it's simply adorable. 

"Um," Death states eloquently, as he blinks at him slowly before hugging him back. Finally, finally, the House of Hades feels at least somewhat like home again, and its unruly Prince lets out a slightly choked happy chuckle. "Hi to you too. You okay?"

The question makes him pause. Then frown. And then pause again, almost in awe.

In complete awe about the sheer audacity of this unfappable creature! 

" _Me_?" Zagreus squints up at his lover and huffs when said lover silently raises a brow at his tone. "It's not me who went missing and apparently collapsed from exhaustion earlier. I should be asking that question!"

"Oh," there's something in Than's expression closely resembling a shadow of guilt as he looks to the side. "I'm fine."

"Hmm," Zagreus squints harder and drums his fingers on the Incarnation's chest. The skin is as lukewarm as he remembers, and chiton's black fabric is soothingly familiar. Slowly, the dread in his heart that he refused to acknowledge uncurls its claws. "Care to say that again?"

"Why?" Than squints right back, glancing at him. Okay, he has to give credit where it's due - Death definitely does that better. Centuries of practice, he supposes. 

The Prince grins sheepishly in response:

"Oh, it's just that I didn't get the subtle pause in the middle and can't determine whether you're actually fine or just saying this not to worry me."

"What's the point?" the Incarnation huffs halfheartedly and hugs him tighter despite his own words, unarmored hand slowly but deliberately rubbing his back. "Knowing you, you'll worry anyway since it's not worrying over yourself."

Well... true. And he will, definitely. It just doesn't mean he cannot be competitive about it, though, because, by the Gods, he may outdo Thanatos in their sparring matches, but he won't ever be able to even fathom the amount of combined annoyance and concern Death manages to harbor.

"Don't say that. I wouldn't take your job from you," he teases in a mock offense with a full-blown grin.

"Good," the Incarnation deadpans. "You'd out-chat Hermes if you were Death and let all of the mortals go if they simply ask you politely."

A fair point, in all honesty. 

"Than, I wouldn't take your side-job from you either, since you're too good at it."

"My side-jo...? Huh," Thanatos pauses and actually looks at him, annoyed, but has the decency to look away the moment Zag's breath begins to hitch - because of course it does, it's Than, why wouldn't it. His love's gaze is as brilliant as the surface and just as devastating. Death Incarnate pauses for a moment, before grabbing Zagreus and shifting him on top of himself properly. "How noble of you to leave me all the heavy lifting."

Did he just...?

"If this is a subtle jab at that time I asked you to get onto your lap while you were hovering--"

The tiniest of smiles is back again, and Zagreus wants to kiss it so badly, but blood and darkness, they are having An Important Discussion here!

' _Thank the Gods, Thanatos is back,_ ' - he definitely doesn't think. - ' _Thank all the Gods, the Fates, Master Chaos, whoever, that he's back, he's here with me, and he's his usual thorny self, so whatever happened can't be too bad._ '

"I'd like to remind you that you didn't ask, exactly, but took a running start and jumped at me, with a yelp that startled Achilles, no less," Incarnation chides. "And mayhap it is."

"Than, you're being inconsistent. You said I was light back then!"

Death smirks at him, teasing mixed with adoration.

"What if I lied not to make you self-conscious?"

"You can lie?" the Prince asks, actually curious.

"Don't know," Than shrugs nonchalantly. It comes off weird, considering he doesn't bother to sit up for this. "Despite the weight of the world on my chest, I have to admit I'm managing to do that just fine now."

Why do others see Thanatos as gloomy is beyond Zag. 

"Pff, okay, fine. But for real, though?"

"Why the sudden interest?" Death tenses, glancing at him again, but this time his look is leaning more toward being troubled. "You think me as untrue to you in something?"

Um. Okay, the Prince has to address that immediately unless he wants a giant mess between them. Another one, that is. 

"No, of course not. I know you wouldn't do something like that to me," he reassures as Than keeps looking away. "I just thought it was part of your job or that you were prohibited from that or something, being Death and all."

"Never had a need to, really," Incarnation muses quietly and pauses. "Conversing is easier if you state what you want. Besides, I know how... dishonesty displeases you."

Zagreus beams, trying to make it as much about their teasing as possible instead of the giddy mirth he feels.

"Aha! So I'm not heavy after all."

Death looks at him from the corner of his eyes.

"What a convoluted way to ease one's insecurities, Zag."

Zagreus can't help but snort:

"Says you?"

Before they fell apart, he could read his childhood friend like an open book. Probably better, even, considering how hard it's for him to sit still for enough time to read anything of length. And when they finally came back together, Zagreus had to re-learn and re-discover so much about his lover, it was almost like meeting him anew. Yet now, he feels confident enough to proclaim he has the required knowledge to write a 'Death's speech-to-common speech' dictionary. Probably with illustrations for clarity. 

Thanatos pauses, taking a moment to introspect, then sighs, careful fingers tracing Prince's spine. 

"Says me indeed," he has the decency to admit before falling into silence, and this one is surprisingly enjoyable. 

Zag snuggles to him more comfortably and, for some time, simply relishes in the lukewarm embrace and tender, soothing caresses. They don't go slow, usually - they simply don't have the luxury of time to do it. But now Zagreus doesn't want to rush into anything. It just doesn't feel like the right thing to do, so he simply tries to warm Thanatos to the best of his abilities without things becoming steamy. After all, he knows that despite all of the ever-suffering complaints about his flaming feet and how he's worse than the seething heat of Asphodel, Death actually enjoys his warmth.

After all, he wouldn't be snuggling Zag so much if he didn't. At least a little. Right? 

The Prince lets out a content sigh when those long, careful fingers start massaging his scalp tentatively and decides that yes, he's fine with things staying slow for once. Maybe because of his mental exhaustion, maybe because he noticed how dark and deep were shadows under Than's eyes, or maybe because _Death had collapsed from exhaustion and had to be carried home by Nyx ._

Zagreus tenses a little bit at that thought, and fingers that are caressing him stop abruptly, startled, before trying to massage his neck even more carefully.

Right. He should probably address the issue. Sure, Incarnation said he's fine, but was he, really? He didn't... feel the same, exactly. Not that Zag can pinpoint the difference, but he guesses it's how cold other's skin still is, and how hard it is for him to warm Death Incarnate. Like, he knows that his love's exhausted, on a rational level - that's a given, after such an incident. But it's totally different, visceral knowledge to touch his skin where his breath was trying to warm it up and find it just as cold as it was before. 

Perhaps they should get under the comforter? But he doesn't want to risk it. If Than stands up he may as well leave back to his unending work. 

The Prince ponders for a few moments how to bring the topic up before giving up and using the usual approach. 

"Hey Than?"

He receives some questioning humming. 

"Are you really okay?"

This time it's a tired, suffering grumble. 

"No, I won't take your best Charon's imitation as an answer here."

"Zag."

"Thanatos?"

" _Eugh_."

He knows that huff all too well. Incarnation isn't irritated with him - he's actually irritated at himself for conceding, so Zagreus has to push just a little bit more, but gently. Sort of. Thus, he pulls his best bet.

"Please, love," he feels how Than tenses at the pet name and grins as he sees ever-so-slight golden hue on his face as Death looks away. "Talk to me, will you?"

When Thanatos lets out a long-suffering sigh, Zag already knows he's won and grins even brighter. This earns him an annoyed glance and a more prominent golden hue. 

"Tsch. Would you at least _pretend_ not to be so smug for playing me exactly how you wanted?"

Would that the pose allowed, the Prince would've slapped a hand on his heart exaggeratedly. Instead, he makes an overly-exasperated expression. He can't stop smiling, though, so that might be a bit ruined. 

"I wouldn't dare to be smug with you."

"Sure, Zag," the other one huffs, slightly flicking him on the tip of the nose. Zagreus scrunches his nose like Cerberus scrunches his muzzles when he's splashed with water. "Tell that to your face."

"But you love my face," Zagreus purrs, more like a comeback, but seeing Than blush is always a nice side bonus. Death pauses, probably trying to calm himself, before mumbling:

"Loving just your face in separation from the rest of you would be somewhat problematic, you know."

"Oh, come on, Than, don't try to weasel out of my question."

Death Incarnate bristles for a second yet mellows down almost immediately, wearing that expression he always does when he searches for words. Zagreus runs a soothing caress over his clavicles as what he hopes comes off as encouragement. He doesn't want Than to talk to him only because of the guilt he's apparently feeling. 

No one is good at talking about emotions and feelings in the Great House of Hades - that had been so for as long as Zag can remember. Most of its residents are either too reserved, too busy, or too emotionally constipated for whatever reason to open up to others. It shouldn't be too surprising to see that someone who's at the intersection of those three categories has so many issues. But Zagreus can be patient, at least sometimes, preferably not often, and only when the situation really calls for it. He's not prying, he's just worried and wants things to be better. 

"Tsch. Fine," Incarnation lets out another long-suffering sigh. " I'm... embarrassed."

That doesn't really help to understand the issue. 'Embarrassed' is a giant blanket term for Death that he uses whenever he feels something he sees as unbecoming of him - from anxiety to adoration to actual embarrassment. 

"About now?" the Prince tries to specify.

"No, you menace, about the whole ordeal. It's not like me to-- Ugh," Thanatos pauses, clearly trying to come up with what to say, and continues, slowly, carefully picking out his words. "Considering my job, I have to hold myself to a higher standard. I can't afford to. Just... Snap. Mess up. Whatever you call a failure?"

' _Zagreus_ ,' the Prince doesn't say. The thought is a poisonous thorn in his mind, nestled too deep to drag it out without bleeding all over after centuries, but ever-so-painful. His love doesn't need to hear that.

(He probably knows already; who wouldn't?)

"Not with my station, that is," Thanatos continues, even slower now, glancing at him wearily. Then grits his teeth and closes his eyes for a second. "And... definitely not with _you_."

Huh? 

Zagreus frowns just a little, reaching up to Incarnation's cheek (icy-cold despite all the blushing) and rubbing it soothingly. 

Where that is coming from?

"You called for me," he almost whispers, and oh-- Zagreus feels a shiver down his spine because of how raw his lover's voice sounds. "I know it's not like you actually need me, but... You called for me, _twice_ , and I couldn't... even though you sounded so desperate, I didn't..."

Okay. Okay, he screwed up royally, and not because he's a Prince.

(Of _nothing_ ; he tries not to think about it; he almost succeeds).

"Is... this why you ended up in the House?" Incarnation asks before Zagreus manages to intervene, sounding as despondent as Zag feels.

"No, Than, wait. Listen to me," he hurries to explain, trying to make Incarnation look at him. He knows it would hurt. He doesn't care, frankly. Thanatos does, probably, as he doesn't yield to his touch for once. "I, um, I actually called you here, in the House."

Death Incarnate opens his eyes wide, clearly startled by this information.

"In the House...?" he repeats quietly and then something in him _snaps_ , almost audibly. When he turns abruptly to look at him, Zagreus shudders, forgetting how to breathe. Because Death Incarnate is suddenly _livid_ , and his gaze is more crushing than Lord Uncle Poseidon's tidal waves, sharper than both Lord Ares' blades and Lady Athena's arrows. And when he hisses, voice barely resembling speech, Zag swears he can feel how the temperature in the rooms drops. "Hades, he... actually _dared_ to--"

Oh.

Oh, he remembers that expression on Death's face, Zagreus thinks, memory rushing back as Plegathon rushed into Asphodel Meadows, leaving just as much destruction in its wake. He doesn't have much time to process it, though - the air grows thinner, darker, growing a teal-tinted edge, and Zag knows he has to stop his lover before he does something way too genuine for a Chthonic god. So he pins Thanatos down and holds his face, looking back into piercing yellow eyes.

It's too long. Blood and darkness! It hurts like Gigaros. Worse, even. Something in his chest probably bursts. Maybe it was his lung, maybe not, he's not sure.

Whatever. 

Styx isn't too far away. 

He doesn't look away from those consuming amber eyes. It feels like everything else becomes void, and that there are so many of those bright eyes in it. A hallucination, probably. He has never looked for this long. 

"Thanatos, listen to me!" he demands. There's not much air left in his lungs. That'll have to do. "Father hadn't done anything you're fearful of!"

There's a coppery-sweet taste in his mouth he's too familiar with. 

"Please, love. We can't both be reckless."

He smiles, as reassuringly as he can. 

Some of the blood drips from the corner of his mouth and onto the decorated golden gorget.

Thanatos freezes, only his eyes darting between Zagreus' mismatched eyes and blood dripping from his smile. The shadows churning in the room freeze, the air freezes, whatever was ripping through the reality freezes at last, as Death Incarnate squeezes his eyes shut and hurriedly turns away.

Breathing stops feeling like the most deliberate torture, and Zagreus coughs, gulping for air. Incarnation grits his teeth and throws an arm over his eyes for good measure. 

"I," he flounders before gritting his teeth again and letting out a short, pained sigh through them. "My fault."

"Aw, c'mon, Than, you know I'm into pain! You can go all out with me, really," Zag tries to tease but is abruptly stopped by a gritted out:

"Don't."

Thanatos' hand balls into a fist, so much so that gold is now trickling from it. Zagreus' smile turns sour. 

"Not about this. I remember. Sorry."

They are silent for a long minute, but when Zagreus tries to shift and get off of his lover to find anything healing (not that he can remember anything of sorts in his room, but eh, maybe there's something in those overfilling chests he forgets about? there's a lot of that, probably, but he doubts it's anything of use for now), Than keeps him close. Though only to some degree - this is not the iron grip he can show, and had Zagreus wanted, he could've moved away quite easily. 

"Stay," he pleads, he actually pleads, his voice small and barely audible. "I... you're mad at me, I understand--"

"I'm not mad at you because you are who you are, Than. I've never been and never will be," Zagreus sighs. It's been a... delicate subject for them for quite a while, ever since Zag found out. "I just don't want to dribble my blood all over you, is all."

"Oh."

There's so much sheer gratitude hidden in such a short sound, it's staggering. The Prince tries to smile again, but he knows that the smile is bittersweet. 

No one should be thanking others for not abandoning them for what they cannot change about themselves. 

There's another pause, but this one is shorter and doesn't weigh so heavy as the last. 

"Here," Thanatos offers, his hand leaving Zag's waist and.

Huh.

The Prince stares at the Centaur heart, quietly thumping above the claws of Death's gauntlet. One of those weirdly-same ones, those strange ones. The ones he had received so many times during his escape attempts.

"Where do you even keep those?" he muses but grabs the thing regardless. Smirks, poking his lover's head with his free hand. "What, no need to win our little sparring to get it? Are you getting soft on me?"

"You survived an encounter with Death," Than answers, surprisingly serious. "I think you've rightfully earned it."

Okay, maybe Zagreus isn't immune to blushing either. 

It's quiet again, for a little bit, but it's a relatively good quiet. Thanatos is back to hugging him, with careful, apologizing caresses on his back. It may not be much, but at least he's fine with hiding his face in himation's hood instead of shifting away (and though it's unfortunate, Zag learned better than to try and pry him out after they had the first accident). The Prince himself is busy with absorbing the heart's vigor and allowing it to mend at least some damage his body sustained. 

"How many attempts I've missed?" Death finally asks.

"Um, none?"

"But," Than scrambles for words. "I don't understand. You sounded so desperate but summoned me here, your Father..."

"I haven't seen him since the Temple of Styx," Zag shakes his head. He'd rather have it stay that way but knows an empty wish when he sees one. "He left me there to die from cold. And his wretches, the bastard."

"Huh."

"Do you remember the Call?"

"Barely," Thanatos concedes after a pause. "I was... trying to rest when I thought I heard you, but it was very faint. Yet you called again, and I tried to shift, but. It's embarrassing, but I was barely conscious. I remember you, and that there was no blood, and that I couldn't-- It was so confusing. And then I came to my senses in my room. Must've been Mother Nyx's guidance."

The needle of guilt is back in his side as Zag sighs, tearing through his messy hair.

"Yeah. About that. I'm... sorry, Than, I really am. For being impatient and... calling you. Nyx and Hypnos, they said you went missing, so I got worried and tried to use the Call to get you home. I should've waited for them to end their search first."

There's a pause.

"I can remember only one account of you promising to wait for anything," Thanatos murmurs bashfully, his grip tightening just a fraction. "And using Mort was actually a solid plan." 

He pauses and adds, quieter:

"Wouldn't work if I was captive but otherwise solid."

Zagreus isn't sure why he thought this detail to be important enough to state it. 'Death' and 'captive' don't exactly go together, in his mind. 

"Still, I..." he trails off and huffs, angry at himself. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Than actually glances at him, his expression conflicted. "You wanted to find me, you found a way that would've worked in almost any other case, you were concerned for my well-being. You cared enough to stay home, waiting for me. What's there to ask forgiveness for?"

"But I hurt you?"

"Zagreus. You didn't," he huffs. "Harming me is not an easy task, let me assure you."

"I hope so," Zag muses, quieter than usual.

"You didn't," Than reinforces, returning to rubbing his back reassuringly. 

The restless Prince lets out a content sigh and relaxes slowly, giving in to other's ministrations. He can get used to this, really. But as he almost doses into peaceful stillness, he startles back to look at his lover. 

"Hey Than?"

Another long-suffering humming. 

"Were you the one to take me home?"

Incarnation tenses, somewhat. And Zag knows he's bringing up an unpleasant subject, but he needs answers. 

"Yes."

"Have you met anyone while taking me?"

"Met anyone?" Death echoes. "Who?"

Zagreus chuckles nervously. 

"Remember how I told that Father, being ever the scoundrel that he is, left some wretches to finish me off in the Temple? Well, they didn't, see, because there was some... real abomination in there!"

Another glance from Death.

"Abomination, you say?"

"Yes. I'm not sure what it was, I've never seen anything like it. Everyone keeps saying that Cerberus is a monstrosity, and they're clearly wrong about the best boy, but thanks to that thing I can finally understand the implications of that word!"

Thanatos lets out a thoughtful humming. 

"It was repulsive. And intimidating, certainly. A bit possessive, too. But you know what else it was?"

"Enlighten me."

"It was kind," this earns him another glance. "No, really, Than. It helped me. Delt with wretches and carried me out of the Temple. Simply because I asked to see the sunrise. So it cannot be a part of Father's forces, right? It'd be as if Lernie would suddenly want cuddles instead of biting my heart out. You know, now that I said that, I'd actually like it if that was true."

"Kind, huh."

For whatever reason, Thanatos looks between irritation and embarrassment. Is he jealous? He can't be over something like this. 

Who would be jealous of some monstrosity?

"So I was wondering if you saw it or knew what it was since you found me on the surface," the Prince continues. "I asked Nyx and Hypnos, but they weren't of much help, and we had to find you first and deal with strange aberrations later." 

Thanatos takes his time to think before answering.

"I haven't seen anyone but you on that precipice," he states, and adds, less sure. "But I was already... a bit tired back then."

Zagreus pauses, pondering. He remembers the creature's lament and how injured it was because of his selfish request, and how it didn't abandon him despite that. 

"Shame. I was worried about it, you know?" he blurts out. 

"Worried?" another glimpse. "About them hurting you?"

"No. I mean. Yes? At first, at least. Who wouldn't, it was horrible! I just thought... it's not often I get aid from bystanders, you know? But by leaving the Temple it was harmed, somehow, and I feel responsible for its pain. It wanted to help, and in return received unneeded suffering. That's not fair."

"Well," Than stalls awkwardly for a moment and offers. "I think they knew what they agreed for when they decided they want to help you." 

"Thanks for trying to make me feel better, love," Zagreus grins in turn. It wouldn't be much if it wasn't for who's saying those words, and he wouldn't be able to switch to joking about it for sure. "I hope that... whatever thing it was, it returned to its quiet, nice monster life. Hey, you think it has pups?"

Thanatos chokes on the air and eyes him wearily. The Prince laughs. 

"No, but just imagine, Than! Little fluffy winged abominations. Father would hate those for sure, grouch that he is, but picture how nice it'd be to pet them? That thing was so soft, it was almost like petting Cerberus!"

"Not sure petting... abominations of all things... is a good pastime, Zag," Death intervenes carefully. 

"You never know until you try. But I suppose you're right. Nothing can beat petting the best boy."

"Why, thank you for a weirdly-worded compliment."

"You're welcome, but I meant Cerberus."

"Did you now."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I clearly remember you telling me that having time with me was ethereal, and now I learn I'm outdone by your dog?"

"Maybe you simply should up your game, Than."

"Well then. Next time Eros smacks you under the belt, you go to Cerberus since I'm objectively inferior."

"Oh, come on!"

Maybe because of this small levity, or because of how sure Thanatos sounded before, but the ever-restless Prince manages to relax again and rests his head on his lover's shoulder, still chuckling. Luckily, it's the one without the pauldron. The ornate wings are nice and all but rather uncomfortable to laze on. 

It's calm for a little while, and Incarnation's long, careful fingers return to ruffling through his mop of a hair, trying to work through the knots without discomfort. A futile task, really, but if there's one thing Death is known for, it's being tenacious. 

"Hey Than?"

"Zagreus. Can you simply rest?"

"You know I can't. And I just wanted to thank you. I didn't expect you to be so... talkative." 

Incarnation clicks his tongue. 

"Would you rather me shift away whenever we tried to talk things through?" 

"No!" Zagreus hurries out to the amused chuckle from the other. "No, not really. It's better like this. I'm fine as it's now."

"Fine, huh."

"Better than fine," the Prince grins. Then muses for a little bit before: "Hey Than?"

"Zag, I swear--"

"Do you have to leave soon?"

He doesn't want to sound heartbroken. He probably does anyway, since Death Incarnate tenses momentarily. The Prince lets out a halfhearted chuckle. 

"It's okay, I understand, I really do."

"I," Thanatos pauses, brow furrowed and biting his lip. Zagreus watches him closely. "No."

"Than, it's okay--"

"No. I _want_ to," he ekes out, confusing Zag. Does he want to leave? Or what? Incarnation glances at him, both flustered and timid, for whatever reason. "I _want_ that. To stay a little bit longer. If that's alright?"

That's... surprisingly adorable, and Zagreus knows he's probably blushing till the tips of his ears but frankly doesn't care.

"It is," he grins brightly, ever-happier when Than reciprocates with one of his tiny, frail smiles. "It is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Hope it does qualify as banter, really. As much as I love writing them, I always end up feeling that I make them too soft with each other. I hope it's not OOC?  
> Hey, guess who overanalyzed the game art and built an entire cornerstone of this AU based on the fact that Than's game portrait only looks at you very rarely and only if you have a bond with him? And all other time it seems more like he looks to the side than at whoever he's talking to? This gal! Me. I mean, I did. Those yellow eyes and the way Than looks away haunted me, I swear. Maybe that's why his whole theme became 'eyes'. But I mean, he already has it, canonically? To some extend at least.  
> And Zagreus, sweetheart, you shouldn't describe unknown entities so bluntly, who knows who they might be :D


	7. Ask of me whose side am I on, whose side am I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes canonical dialogue because it's too good to pass and I didn't collect 30+ Gb of it for not using it afterward.

* * *

 _'I almost killed you, twice in one day-or-night!'_ \- he wants to cry out as he watches his love sleeping on his chest, at the same time grateful that he doesn't have to breathe and won't disturb him. But he doesn't, obviously. He wouldn't dare to interfere with his well-deserved and oh so rare rest (it should be eternal) with his anxiety of all things. - ' _Why are you still here? Why am I allowed near you? How can you love me? Why do you? Why can't you just tolerate me much like everyone else? Everyone else who knows better than to stay around?_ '

He doesn't say that.

He can't say that.

And he won't.

He's never been known for being good with words, besides.

(But he's weak and greedy, as always - yet not greedy enough.)

Should he be surprised, Thanatos ponders, that he cannot let go of what he considers his? Is it his own ineptitude, yet another underdevelopment of his inert psyche - or the possessive nature of the very aspect he embodies? After all, he tried to cut his desire out of his life. He was the one who forged the poignant chain of rash decisions, so unlike of his usual calculated self. Choices and words made out of pain and spite he thought himself incapable of feeling - but those that overwhelmed him when old wounds of his being were carelessly reopened. 

(He should've ripped the other open instead of himself.)

His mother taught him _grace,_ and he followed it as much as he was capable (by being unbearable). His detachedness should've made it easy to toss everything away and forget the whole ordeal once goodbyes were set (he had to be the one to even say them). His commitment to the House should've been absolute (disgrace). 

_He should've followed that order and dragged Prince back to the lowest depths where he previously resided._

And yet, it was so wrong (he was right) to try and rip out the bond they shared. 

So instead, he faltered, he strived, he _felt_. 

(He shouldn't have.)

Perhaps that was the key reason he came around ( _crawled back_ ) once Zagreus tried to make amends with him. Not quite forgiving, yet he didn't have it in him to dismiss Zag's genuine floundering as he wormed his way back into Than's existence. His Prince was a master of mixed messages, after all, and Thanatos had to deal with the confusion just as much as Zag had to deal with Incarnation's inability to speak. 

If not more. 

(Spineless to his Prince's whims, as he always was.) 

Yet after so many, many years of endorsing Zag, he finds it hard to even be despised by himself (it's actually easy). Sure, his pride of Incarnation stings (as it should), but if it's the price he has to pay, he's frighteningly fine (weakling among his kin) with paying it if Zagreus' happiness is what he gets out of the ordeal. 

Still... those emotions he experiences lately (he shouldn't have). Too much of them, in fact. They're becoming dangerous. _He_ 's becoming dangerous. To Zag of all Gods. And he would rather unravel himself thread by thread than be of a real threat to his agape. 

(Shirking the duty that's his sole reason to exist, what a disgrace.)

Said agape lets out an undignified snort and hides his face in the crook of Thanatos' neck, nuzzling him with some incomprehensible, satisfied mumble. Incarnation allows him to settle more comfortably, letting out a soft chuckle that sounds like the rustle of feathers (as it should) as Zag tries to intertwine their limbs further despite being asleep. Ever the sprawler, his Prince, like flameaters that now occupy Asphodel, and ever-worried that his lover might disappear any moment. 

(What right does he have, when he was the one who _left_.)

As if he holds him tight enough, the other one will stay.

(No one is allowed to _leave_ him.)

They are alike in this, he supposes, as he fondly pets Zagreus' hair. 

Certainly, never would Death ever admit it, but he... always quietly craved for this (he shouldn't have). He longed for a genuine connection with someone (he shouldn't have) who isn't saddled with tolerating his person because of blood bonds or working relationship. Truth be told, he craved to be someone's beloved ( _he shouldn't have_ ) ever since he reaped the first-ever lovers among the Titans and found out that concept exists.

But who would be insane enough to not be deterred by the mark of Death's adoration? 

(He shouldn't understand the concept of wanting anything.)

Besides those who cannot shirk him, obviously. 

(They will all be his, inevitably, in the end. _All of them_.)

So he abandoned that craving much like he forsook his attempts to reach out to others - that one needed a few disastrous events to happen to really drill the knowledge into him. But he learned, ever-slowly, yet steadily, that he was better off alone - or so he told himself. And so often he did, that it became a simple fact of life he stopped questioning - or lamenting, for that matter. Just a fact, the same as his never-ending toil, as Mother's appearance in the sky, as Brother's sleepiness, as Charon's growing stash of obols - unquestionable, definite, and obvious.

Until it wasn't. 

The cries of mortals become maddening (ripe for the taking), but he pushes them away as Zagreus shifts again, restless even in his light slumber, and Thanatos readily lets him sprawl all over himself ( _pathetic_ ). He even pulls him back a little so that Zag won't scoot off of him. And sure, he accompanies his ministrations with a long-suffering sigh, especially when the Prince somehow manages to dig his elbow in his stomach to the point where it actually is mildly uncomfortable.

But there's also a stupid, uncontrollable smile, full of fondness ( _forbidden_ ), as Thanatos carefully steals glances of his relaxed, sleeping face. 

Who else would be so carefree in Death's cold embrace?

(He should've devoured him instead - that would've solved so many problems at once.)

Zagreus' breath tastes of pomegranate and blood. It's a glowing mix of carmine and purple that swirls soothingly against Thanatos' lifeless grey skin, sizzling against his core as he collects what is generously given to him. He shouldn't be looking at it, he shouldn't be taking it, he shouldn't be seeing it in the first place.

But Zagreus just gives it to him, willingly, maybe even unknowingly, and it's been so long since they could indulge in each other's peace.

(How long will it take his agape?)

He closes his tired eyes and wills himself into being poised and resolute, his relaxed form skittishly sinking under the shell. Zag may wake up at any moment. If he finds himself in an embrace of a mishmash of his lover and... an abomination... he most likely won't be pleased.

(How long will it take his agape to hate him much like everyone else?)

The fit will pass. They always do. Warmth always helps. 

( _He yearns_.)

Thanatos grits his useless blunt teeth in a futile attempt to keep the temptation at bay.

He can't mess this up.

He won't mess up his only chance.

The mere thought makes all of his wings stiffen, but... once he's fully healed, he has to ask Mother Nyx for one more chain. 

* * *

If there is a small silver lining in all of this, it's that Death Incarnate has no need to breathe. 

He wants to crumple his divine shell and fall on the fancy illusion of the floor willed from Darkness by Mother, then deeper still, into the tiny crack between the worlds, into his very aspect. If it wasn't for his pride, he'd be trembling from the exertion to keep his shell together. It's a good thing he usually stands with his arms crossed, really. Not only does it help him minimize the chance of accidentally touching anything or anyone, but it additionally allows him to claw at his shell without much notice. This physical pain is so much easier to process, it's almost a relief. 

He doesn't allow himself to float when he reports - which is a shame, really, as his knees are giving in beneath him. However, Gods are prideful creatures, even more so than Primordials, despite having objectively less reason to do so. Master is borderline unbearable as of late, so there's no need to tempt his sisters, just as there is no need to make Mother Nyx's work harder. He will leave on yet another assignment, while she will be forced to correspond with Lord Hades. 

"That is all, my Lord," he finishes with as much dignity as he can manage with a new chain burning at the back of his throat. After a tick of pondering, he adds a respectful bow to his words, his shell's spine burning against him worse than Phlegethon. 

Maybe the display of submission would make Hades pleased enough to be bearable for a little while. Mother Nyx mentioned she had a lot to discuss with the Master of the House. 

"That is all, you say," the God of the Dead repeats, moving the parchment before him aside and taking another one. He skims through it and glares at his underling. Death dutifully looks away, tracing his movements only from the corner of his eyes. "Well, then. I'm more informed about you than you are, it seems. I'm receiving incident reports from my domain involving you. From Asphodel in particular. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Thanatos doesn't flinch, and his expression doesn't change, as there's nothing in him that would be riled up enough to respond to Master's implied accusations. Mayhap it is because of his current exhaustion, or maybe because he's too used to the feeling of inevitability, considering his own aspect. 

He has been on borrowed time all along. It shouldn't be surprising that the Master's wrath finally caught up with him. Not in the way and not from the direction he was actually expecting it but does it really matter, in the end?

"I've been checking on some of the shades there," Death Incarnate agrees nonchalantly - and he's not lying, frankly. He can see from the corner of his eyes how Hades' expression twitches into repressed disdain. Did he really expect to receive a confession right away? How childish. "And most of my assignments tend to end up there or in Tartarus. I'm afraid, I don't follow, my lord."

Shades start muttering among themselves at the corners of the Great Hall, and Incarnation sinks his claws into his forearm to remail composed. Everyone knows he resents being in the center of attention. He would much rather receive all of this, even in much harsher form, privately. And would that there was a point to this, something severe, and cruel, but fair, it would've been carried out in such a way. Furthermore, it most likely will be - afterward. Yet this... this is a humiliation for the sake of it. Simply because Thanatos abhors attention and every damn shade in the Underworld is aware of that. 

"If you don't follow, then let me clarify," the Master of the House lets go of the parchment, and it lands softly on the tabletop. He gestures towards a stack of documents beside him. A show, Thanatos is convinced now. All of it. "All of those are reports from Tartarus, Asphodel, and even Elysium. From my _loyal_ subjects."

So it really comes to this, it seems.

Death Incarnate ponders, detachedly, if Gigaros though the chest would sting and would it be worse than the chain. It probably would, considering the weapon's cruel nature that conflicts with his. A clash of aspects always leaves him aching. 

He should be thinking of the situation at hand yet he's so hollow, he can barely force himself to care - the new chain being the only point of pain he can concentrate on. Hades couldn't have chosen a worse time to degrade him, really, as his mind is too far from his core, and it can barely hold himself composed. 

All of that offensive muttering would cut immediately if he could shake his shell off for just a moment--

He knows he can't. He shouldn't. He _mustn't_ . Almost desperately, he tries to find anything to focus on without repercussions, to stabilize himself, eyes skimming the Great Hall. The cold sprinkles of jewels, shimmering purple walls, burnt orange brightness of the milling shades, Hypnos' opalescent mist, Mother's creeping, soothing darkness that seeps through every seam of the House. Everything that should be familiar enough to ground him but now is... just _there_. Or so it seems to his overburdened mind. 

He catches a glimpse of fruit in a bowl at Hades' imposing desk, forgotten-yet-familiar, and uses it as a focal point to prevent his shell from warping. Luckily, he doesn't have to stare for long enough for the thing to rot.

Thanatos suddenly remembers. 

How it's called pomegranate and how it's weighing heavily in his hands and how its ripe pale-greenish skin felt smooth in his fingers. He remembers the ashy-green-tinted lips, and the scared yet grateful smile on them, and the earnest thank you that came after. Sometimes, he believes he was trying to smile back despite not understanding what he was doing. Maybe he even succeeded. It's hard to tell with the memories he gave up. 

He remembers how those same lips trembled, swollen and bruised, a smear of gold on them. The shaking shoulders. Mother's rightful fury. His own chains, few as they were, digging deeply into his tense wings. His bared fangs and barely-held-back eyes, and how he was banned from the House for 'inappropriate upheaval' until he 'learned propper manners' which in reality simply meant more chains. 

Far clearer, he remembers Keres' screeches and Styx's scorching pull, and the blazing cleft left in its grey-tinted wake. He remembers seeing the sheer broken desperation in the mismatched eyes as the sweet catharsis of victory turned caustic once Temple's borders were crossed. He remembers how the snow mixed with blood and clung to his lukewarm fingers as he scooped the mutilated body from the ground. How it glistened before his eyes, golden shimmer bright and inviting, making him dizzy and thirsty.

Thanatos remembers too much despite surrendering most of his memory on the altar of impartiality.

So much so that he fears his reciprocation for Master's wrath would be much, much more devastating now. 

Because he doesn't _want_ to sacrifice any more memories. For they are his to cherish, to collect, to preserve. 

Yet he won't strike first. 

Sometimes he wishes he would, but comprehending that he's able to _wish_ for something is a topic he has no mental capacity to deal with, presently.

He knows he won't initiate the open confrontation, though. It's not in his nature, it goes against his very aspect, as he despises being driven to violence despite being supremely constituted for just that. He's the Incarnation of Gentle Death, after all - he reminds himself. 

And for someone who remembers so much despite owning so little of himself, he has to be reminded of that an awful lot lately. 

Though, he knows better than to be the one to break the peace of Mother's House. The mere thought of displeasing Mother Nyx makes him taste ash in the air. Besides, he'd given up so much to keep the frail order, it seems counterproductive. 

"Those are diverse records of incidents involving you being in places you shouldn't be doing what you shouldn't have," Hades continues, perfectly even. Thanatos knows better than to try and interrupt his speech. It sounds way too calculated and rehearsed to be imprompt. "Numerous enough to warrant you a one-way trip to the depths of Tartarus."

There's a splash of gold and seething-blue at the back of his mind, and he almost, _almost_ grits his useless blunt teeth suitable only for show. Moments later, he hears the bubbling in the Pool of Styx and splashing, and Zagreus pulls to the stairs, the dull grey of blood dripping from the golden tips of his har. 

His first thought is that he is a failure, as he let this farce to keep him from getting Zag to the House himself.

His second thought is mere enervated 'how untimely'. 

Suppressing a long-suffering sigh, Death discreetly rips through the thin line where his shell connects to its shadow. Then, with more effort, he slithers through the Darkness that constitutes the House and reaches to his twin's shadow with a thin whisk of stardust. Sometimes it's useful to be standing, although, it's still an uncomfortable assault to all his senses. 

<Stall him.>

Hypnos gives him a 'you owe me one' glance before rushing to interject Zagreus right in time with Hades being finished with his dramatic pause:

"You've been abetting him, Thanatos," he slams his fist into the tabletop, roar shaking the Underground, before sizzling into a venomous hiss. "Behind my back! Betrayal. I would ask you _why_. Well?"

Incarnation looks to the side, trying and failing to come with anything palatable to deescalate the situation. Behind him, Hypnos is equally desperate to hold Zagreus off of the confrontation. His twin is wise enough to feel the shift of Death's greater wings and understand that if the squabble escalates to Prince being involved - or Fates forbid, _harmed_ \- even Mother's words probably won't stop Thanatos this time. 

Than shudders involuntarily when Zagreus mutters his name to Sleep Incarnate, clearly arguing over his person. It's not a proper Call, but it's too close, and his mind is stretched too thin, and all of his being wants to respond, to shift back, to be at his Prince's stubborn, restless side. To be where he finally belongs not by his birthright or his obligation - but by his own volition. 

And this brings a thought.

Wouldn't de-escalation be dishonesty, here?

"My lord, he and I," Thanatos starts but has to cut himself, as his voice is bashful even to his own ears.

' _We have what you have lost,_ ' he does not say because Mother wanted him to be graceful. ' _What you lost because of my sisters and, to some extent, because of me._ '

But mostly because of a truly-Olympian hubris. Lord of the Underworld wanted to defy the Fates and was promptly reminded whose realm it truly is despite him wearing the crown.

As centuries passed, Thanatos proved himself to be a 'useful asset', a henchman to run what Hades intended to rule. So much so that finally, after eons of hard work and Incarnation ceasing as much as was necessary to maintaining peacefulness, their relationship grew neutral and professionally-brief. Much like Than preferred all of the interactions he couldn't skip, really. 

Mother Nyx proved herself a miracle worker time after time again, persevering where Hades fell to ruin and stepping aside gracefully where his effectiveness was desired. Hypnos proved himself by getting half of the mortal lives, readying them to when they finally won't wake up at all. Charon was a stable presence outside of the House, unending as the Underworld itself. The House stood in relative order, gradually creeping from the brink of full-blown crisis and tardily stirring into a new routine. It was Olympians who threw a wrench in everything like they usually did. Yet it is to be expected, by now. 

It's just that sometimes Death Incarnate forgets that Lord Hades is Olympian too, by his blood.

And it shows sometimes. 

"Please."

He's not sure what he asks for.

Looks like the long-suffering peace is finally over. Or, rather, the pretense of peace.

And he of all Incarnations is the one to drop it.

Oh, how proud sister Eris would've been, had she seen it. Though, she will know, in time. There is no doubt about that. 

Thanatos feels his agape's attentive stare on his back despite Hypnos finally managing to drag him to the lounge. His fiery, vital presence is still there, shining through the walls, the shades, Mother's colorful wings. Soothing. Steeling. Making everything easier. 

Not that it was ever hard.

Death had always been aloof. Ever impartial. He never had to choose - yet that was mostly because he had made his choice long ago. And he's not the one to swing sides. 

"Go lock me up in Tartarus, or deal whichever justice you see fit," Incarnation offers bluntly, knowing full well that particular intimidation is an empty threat. At least.... he believes it to be empty. They already know the horrendous result of locking him up, besides. Sure, Master would be entirely within his right to come up with basically anything else, and he'd have to take it, but that's an entirely different point to worry about. As long as he won't be chained, Thanatos's certain, he can take it. Surely, Hades isn't as petty towards one of his subjects as to resort to such?

Death Incarnate closes his eyes for a moment, relishing in the vital presence of his lover before glancing at the Lord and Master of the House and sealing the deal:

"But, my loyalty is not subject to change," Than notices how Hades' expression becomes more and more disillusioned with every word he speaks. Poor Mother Nyx, he's ruining her chance to work with Lord properly any time soon, but for once, Death decides that he won't cease. The vibrant mist of carmine and purple is still under his skin, warming him despite the chains, both old and new. And he wants, nay, needs to repay for his Prince's kindness. "And I cannot stand by and watch you fight. The matter between you and Zagreus... there has to be some resolution, here."

' _Let him go,_ ' he doesn't say, because that would be a challenge, and he doesn't strike first. ' _Can't you see? By sidestepping the war with Olympians, you're causing a war here, amongst your own. Is this what you wish for your domain? Is this your preference?_ '

The following silence is suffocating despite him having no need to breathe. It's so... thrilling, almost. It's... a _feeling_ , again. If he had a heart, it would be racing now, so it's a good thing he doesn't possess one. 

Thanatos made his stance. 

Forever-neutral Death chose a side. 

Blood and darkness, the mill of gossip will be churning for at least a decade on this alone. 

"You dare to lecture me? _Tsch_ . My loyal subjects are too few of late, I think," the God of the Dead scrutinizes him, leaning back. He ponders for a moment, rust-brown eyes trying to pierce Death's soul. A futile attempt, really. It's not like he has one. "This is _your_ realm, not mine." 

Hmpf. How noble of Lord and Master of the House to remember is, at least occasionally. 

Thanatos catches himself just in time not to scoff. He's been spending way too much time with Zagreus, considering that thought of the action exists in his head in the first place. Looks like Prince's willfulness had been contagious, and now he exerts his own, for better or worse. 

"I'll not cast you into that wretched pit," Hades decides finally, still staring at Death. And grumbles, a bit quieter. "It's not like I have someone to replace you here, besides."

Ah. Here's the real explanation for Hades to leave him be, much like Than had anticipated.

"Now then, begone," the Master of the House waves him away like he's just a shade. 

Thanatos grits his teeth again, wounded pride hissing and snapping its fangs, but he thinks of his family and shoves it down per usual. He already acted petulant enough for this day-or-night. It's time he remembered his manners before he's banned from the House again, for something so trivial, no less. 

Trying and failing to ignore the molten pain in his shell's spine, he bows again, lower this time.

"I'm deeply sorry, lord..."

And he truly is. It's just not for the reason Hades might want to hear unless he wishes to be even more cross with Death Incarnate than he already is. Yet the God of the Dead doesn't want to listen any further while Than has no intention to clarify his intentionally vague wording. 

The temptation to shift into the lounge and at least get a proper look at Zagreus is almost impossible to resist, but he shakes it away. He wasn't there for Zag when Prince needed him. He doesn't deserve to crave his presence in turn, now. Besides, it's way too risky. Hades might want to blow off some steam, ripping into his willful son, and... well.

Mother Nyx won't be pleased if Thanatos starts a coup, will she? He's not particularly good at socializing, but he's quite sure that's outside of the realm of being polite, and she did teach him grace after all. 

With a wordless apology to his agape, Death Incarnate shifts to the surface. And while he does despise the overly-bright, tediously-transparent place with an ardent passion, there's a silver lining to it. At least he can shake off his burning, constraining shell while he works, relish in the silence, and get accustomed to the added chains. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> **_Important note_** : today's the last day of my vacation, so this chapter is the last one of rapid-fire updates, and the next ones most likely will take more time to finish and polish. I _will try_ to update weekly, but if life will kick my ass, it will just kick my ass. Sorry about that, but there's not much I can do, really :(
> 
> Well now, previously we had some fluff, so now the drama is needed to balance things out, right? Right?  
> Writing Than is such a delight, that I honestly not sure why I don't write chapters from his perspective more often. So many hooks and implications, and details to sneak in and play with :) Maybe I should?


	8. It's never black and white, no, going seismic out of spite, oh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter includes canon dialogue because it fits way too well to pass the opportunity

The toll of Death Incarnate's departure reverberates through the air for a few more moments, much like it always does. Still, its aftersound is definitely lost under all of the shade's milling. And there's a lot of it, far more than usual. Souls of the dead flock into groups to gossip, green cloaks fluttering and heads turning to glance at the remaining Gods, Incarnations and the like - yet there's no reverence in those, only curiosity and something too close to gloating to be comfortable. 

At least, to the Prince, who frowns, observing the commotion in the renewed lounge. 

Previously, when he wasn't so concentrated on escaping the House, Zagreus would spend his leisure days-or-nights talking to shades. He'd concentrate hard to hear words and coherent sentences in the soft noises they uttered. He'd lend them his ear, trying to make them at least somewhat welcome; he'd try to ask what their lives were, though, they were mostly preoccupied with complaints about one thing or another. He didn't have that much free time once the training with Achilles started. It decreased even further when his Father decided to saddle him with administrative work. However, Zag was kind-hearted enough to listen, where and when he could. Maybe that added to the neverending list of his mistakes, but eh, who was counting besides Hades? And Father hated his work regardless, so there was no loss at that. 

Once the whole escape ordeal began, his focus shifted. Still, once the first rush faded, he found himself spending his hard-earned gems (wrestled with blood and sweat from treasure troves of his Father's domain, no less!) to order some small commissions and make the House more livable. Surely enough, Hades continuously made fun of how stupid his motivation sounded, yet, somehow, it grew in a twisted form of encouragement. The Prince would order sittings and rugs, and spices for the Head Chef, and cozy fireplaces, and towels to dry shades' spectral forms when they climbed out of the Pool of Styx. Sure, that last one, it may have been for him, mostly (probably Meg too, come to think about it; Father too, sometimes, though he doesn't want to think about that). And maybe it added a bit of work for Dusa, having to wash the stacks, but then again, she didn't have to clean blood from the floor constantly, so that was a plus, he supposes. Regardless, he sought to make everyone's stay in the House less miserable. It wasn't like he was trying to bribe the ghosts - in all honesty, he couldn't tell them apart. Yet it doesn't mean he didn't want to see a glimpse of recognition, or maybe a shadow of a smile, or some kind musing for his efforts, or something. 

One of them, his fan at the Elysium's stadium, did recognize Zagreus. And they became a presence in the Prince's life without the two of them ever sharing enough time to have even the smallest of small talks. They put an effort to see Zag as someone worth said effort. So why others couldn't? 

Maybe because they never thought it was worth it? 

That  _ he _ was worth it?

That anything they wanted in their eternal existence is some  _ spectacle _ ? Something -  _ someone _ \- more miserable than they are, even if briefly, just to gloat?

So now, the only thing Zagreus wants all of the shades to do is to  _ shut up _ , hands clenching and unclenching, but there's no reassuring weight of Stygius in them to calm him down. He wants to  _ make _ them shut up, much like he sometimes shuts up those that cackle in Tartarus right beneath his courtyard. The same ones that are so amused by his failures and are constantly crowing about him as he runs by, trying to escape the House that stopped being home.

However, now it's worse. Because now those same shades are latching onto the degradation that his lover received on Zag's behalf, and how it made for a great  _ show _ . 

"Looks like someone's no longer a valuable worker," he hears a hushed chuckle and whips around to see a group of shades gathering rapidly. 

"It was about time he was brought down a peg or two," another shade replies in a murmur. "At least some of us are here because of his ineptitude."

"Come to think about it, can it be that my heart attack was just a ruse to even the ledger? I was so healthy when I was alive..."

"Isn't his brother assures the ledger of the dead?"

"You think he did it so that his brother could keep a job?"

"Weren't you the one who fell off the ladder?"

"By Gods, no, I hate heights."

"That would be me," another shade chimes in, green cloak flapping as it shakes its head. "I think more about it, and I don't remember, but I think the fall shouldn't have killed me. You think Death can be clumsy?"

"It's blasphemy, though now that it's mentioned..."

Zagreus grits his teeth, turning away and trying not to listen, but as if mocking him even more, his ears catch every single word with frightening ease. Hypnos looks gloomily at the shades, too, for once stopping his own chirping. Except they don't seem to notice Sleep Incarnate's and the Prince's attention, too caught up in the fresh scandal. 

"You think there will be a trial?"

"Like Sisyphus' one?"

"No need, he already admitted guilt."

"I wonder how Lord Hades would punish him?"

"For incompetence or for treachery?"

"Both?"

"No use throwing someone who floats into the pit, I suppose..."

"You think he will be banished again?"

That 'again' and the implication it brings causes something in Zag to snap, and he almost shifts towards the shades. Yet before he can actually do anything ( _ can _ he even do anything to a shade but scare it a bit...?), someone grabs him by the shoulder and yanks back. The grip is ironclad, and nails dig into his skin just right to know immediately who could that be. 

Zagreus whips around to see Megaera. 

"Don't tell me you're fine with what they spit," he demands instead of greeting, fuming. The Fury glares at him for a moment.

"Don't add to the fire," she mutters before shoving him towards the exit from the lounge and adds. "Hypnos. Get this idiot out of here to where we can talk. I'll join you and Prince momentarily."

The last thing Zag sees is how she marches towards the shades, composed and deadly as ever. Sleep Incarnate drags him to the East Wing and further still, probably towards his chambers - the only place they could talk privately without crossing the Great Hall, really. 

Nyx isn't at her usual spot either, despite the Prince being somewhat sure that she's in the House. It turns out she's standing in front of Hades, but, for once, his Father's hiss is too quiet to make out any words. However, that's basically all he manages to see, as Hypnos isn't slowing down and is filled with determination to get out of everyone's sight. 

Zagreus rips his arm out of Sleep's hand (which took more effort than he's willing to admit) once they're in the middle of the room and starts pacing angrily. The Incarnation bundles in his cloak, following him with his heavy gaze. 

"So," he sighs, the golden quill dancing in his nimble fingers. "That's a thing that happened. Good thing Mom is here. Maybe she'll be able to mitigate some of the damage..."

"Why wouldn't you let me stop him?" Zag demands, stopping in his tracks. Hypnos blinks at him like a particularly startled bat. 

"Who, Brother?" 

Zagreus scoffs. Why would he want to stop Thanatos from being on his side?!

"No, that sorry excuse I have to call Father!" he snaps. 

"Because Lord Hades is completely within his right," Meg answers instead, as she strides into the room, whip in hand. She's seemingly eerily calm. It's a bad sign if he ever saw one. "He was merciful, unbelievably so. Than is a traitor and should be dealt with as such."

Zagreus stares at her for a long moment, blood pounding in his ears.

"You can't be serious," and when she doesn't look away, whip's handle beating over the palm of her hand, he takes a step towards her. "Isn't he supposed to be your friend? And your first thought about him finally standing up against Father's drivel is that he is a traitor? That's Father was nice to him by lashing at him in front of everyone?"

She narrows her eyes in a warning, but she isn't the only one pissed here.

"That's because he is, and you have no idea what you're talking about, based on your words," she hisses, squinting down on him. "Getting Dusa fired temporarily was bad enough, but this? Despite all of my work with mortal scum, I didn't think anyone could stoop so low. You buzzed everyone's ears off how you cared about Thanatos, I thought for a moment you actually meant it."

That remark riles the Prince in turn.

"So you're telling me it's my fault Father has a gripe with Than now? Simply because he has some integrity to stand with someone he loves instead of throwing all of his feelings away the moment his career is scrutinized?" he snarls back. It's a topic both of them preferred not to touch, now that they were getting along somewhat, but... He wasn't the one who started hitting where it really hurt. "Or are you mad because he did what you couldn't?"

Megaera growls and lunges at him, grabbing him by the throat and lifting ever-so-slightly, so he has to uncomfortably tip-toe while clawing at her arm. She isn't particularly choking him, but there's definite pressure on his windpipe. 

"Meg, we're still in the House!" Hypnos yelps, eyes darting between them. He raises his hands as if to reach them, but falters before he does. Instead, he continues more evenly. "You would be breaking your own oath and prohibited from here. It's not worth it.  _ Please _ . We have enough trouble as is."

Hypnos floats closer and carefully touches the Fury's arm. This makes Meg slightly cool down. Yet if her glares could kill, Zagreus would definitely be in Styx by now. 

"Fine," she huffs. "If the Prince over there finally stops shirking his guilt for a moment."

"My  _ guilt _ ?" Zag spits back, hellbent on not backing down. He didn't back away from Hades. He won't back away from his old flame either. "My guilt is seeing what a miserable hole this place is and wanting to be with my Mother! Listen to yourself...!"

"No, now you'll listen to  _ me _ ," the Fury growls, in turn, her grip on his throat tightening for a moment. "If you want others to take you seriously, you stop acting like a spoiled child who already has everything yet demands more."

"And what do I have here besides the honor of being everyone's laughingstock, exactly?" the Prince wheezes stubbornly. 

This makes her deflate somewhat, but disdain is still clear on her face as she answers:

"You're even more stupid if you ask such things."

"Well, why wouldn't you do the honor of enlightening me? Everyone keeps saying I'm stupid, yet no one ever wants to talk!"

"And no one will. Not until you get over yourself," she snarls sharply, eyes blazing. "Not until you've fixed what you've done. I've known Than before your parents came into existence! His work is the closest thing he has to what you call 'life', yet you ruin it for him? All of his family is in the House, and you want him to be exiled because of your whims? Where would he even go, if he's tossed out? To your mountainous relatives who treat him worse than they treat mortals?"

Meg looks him straight in the eyes, intently and unyielding, and he breaks down from the venom of doubt that her words inflict. As it turns out, there are enough bubbling guilt and anxiety in Zagreus' consciousness to make him bite on his lower lip and look away. 

Would he really push the conflict far enough to force his love into being even more alone than he already is? For his own selfish gain? He tore the House apart by his endeavors, true, but it was never something permanent. Or, well, at least he didn't think the damage would be permanent - they're gods, right? A few centuries to cool off, and everyone would be good to go!

Right?

"You can go drown in Styx for all the damage you've done to this House for all I care," The First of Furies grumbles, letting go of Zag and pushing him away. "But Thanatos is my friend, and I won't tolerate you ruining his life. What substitutes a life for him, that is."

That's an interesting spin to put on his love sticking to his side, Zag ponders. But... there are also some points he hadn't considered before. 

"A bit rude, there, but I see where you're coming from and can't really argue with that last part," Hypnos chirps in, fiddling with his feather. The Fury just shrugs at that, whip back at her hands. Incarnation sighs again, then turns to the Prince and adds surprisingly solemnly. "Megaera's right here, Zagreus. It's dangerous for Thanatos to take sides."

Zag eyes him in disbelief. His best friend just sided against him!

"Dangerous? How so?" he barks, disheartened. "Father can't replace him with anyone; he admitted it himself! What can he even do to him?"

He's interrupted by an angry crack of a whip against the floor of the room.

"Whatever the blazing hell he pleases!" Megaera hisses furiously. "Blood and Darkness, don't you understand the 'King of the Underworld' part of his title?"

"I do far worse things regularly, and all he did was berate me," Zag shrugs, rubbing his swollen throat. His voice is raspy, but it won't stop him from talking anytime soon. "And kill a couple of times, but that's beside the point."

The Fury slaps his forehead and drags her hand down, nails trailing on pale skin, looking at him like he's the dumbest bat pup she had ever seen.

"Because you are a Prince! His  _ only _ son. A bloody idiot of a son, true, but still a Prince. Do you need everything to be spelled out for you?"

"So what if I'm his son?" Zagreus barks back, hating that this particular circumstance would be brought up as some sort of his privilege. "If anything, it only makes him hate me more than any of you. I'm his biggest disappointment. He makes sure I never have the opportunity to forget that."

"Well, maybe you finally should sit your restless ass down and think of why," Meg scoffs at him, fingers trailing on the whip's length dangerously. 

"Because despite all of his meddling, I'm actually making a difference," Zagreus states pointedly. He stares at his old flame with both determination and defiance, back straight. For what feels like a sparkling, heated moment, they simply stand there, eyeing each other.

It's so similar yet so different from their battles in the Chamber of Furies. They are at each others' throats again, yet it's the first time Zag actually  _ wants  _ to fight with her instead of needing to pass her.

"A difference made by borrowed strength is just an illusion," Megaera snarls back finally, voice low and whip's handle pointing at him dangerously like a blade's tip. "If it wasn't for the Mirror behind you, you'd still be floundering in Styx."

She takes a beat of pause, glaring at him with a collected coldness that (if Zagreus knows her at all, which he does; at least somewhat) conceals her real reasons. 

"And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay where you belong, now."

She lingers not a moment longer, leaving the Prince's room with the same grim determination she seeped when she marched towards the gossiping shades. 

There's a long beat of silence before Zagreus turns to Hypnos.

"You won't storm out on me too, will you, mate?" the Prince asks with a lopsided smile, maybe a tad too cautiously for it to be just a joke. Hypnos huffs at him tiredly:

"Nope, not my style! It requires too much effort, to be frank," his lively grin doesn't really reach his eyes, though, and it stings. 

"So that means you don't agree with Meg, do you?"

"Should I be concerned by your uncertainty about me? I think she definitely could've worded that better, but you know the Furies, their harshness is the biggest part of their charm, am I right?" Dream Incarnate chuckles surprisingly fondly. "But no, she's quite wrong on a couple of details, I think. Namely, that you're the only one who ruins Than's life because, why, Brother is notoriously known for being excellent at it himself."

Zagreus feels as if suddenly there's no air left in his lungs. 

"You can't be serious."

"I actually am, you know. He shouldn't have taken sides because he shouldn't take sides at all. Not yours, not Master's, not anyone else's. It's part of what he is. Should be, at least."

"What's wrong with him sticking with me?" Zagreus asks, fingers tearing through the knots in his hair. "Hypnos, you're known for giving tips! Talk to me, I don't understand."

Incarnation huffs at him then chuckles quietly, chewing at the tip on his quill, and shrugs:

"Well, not much of the 'wrong' for you, not gonna lie," he looks at Zag, eyes shimmering coldly, before offering a more natural smile. "The two of you have so many complications already, I'm not going to ruffle Brother's feathers and add to them."

"But?" the Prince presses on, not willing to let the issue slide. 

"But I'm not going to side with you," Sleep Incarnate looks him in the eyes. "Or do anything against Master's orders. Or pretend that I'm okay with Thanatos doing what he does. In a way, everything will stay as it was, so no need to dig into it!"

He attempts to float out of the room, but the Prince dashes after him, catching the end of the quilted cloak. 

"Why?"

"I'd really love to chat more, Zag, but really, there are shades to count and lists to write, so--"

"Hypnos."

There's a long pause, filled only with the Prince's rapid heartbeat and the feeling of soft fabric being crumpled underneath his fingers. 

"Because I'm bound to the House," Hypnos answers simply without turning back to him. he looks straight before himself, at a point only he sees. "And if he's banned from the place then, well. It's not like we can meet. Like,  _ ever _ , unless Master changes his mind or one of us breaks our oaths."

"Oh," is all that Zagreus manages to say. Sleep Incarnate shrugs nonchalantly. 

"I know it's always you two, with me just tagging along or sleeping through everything," he continues just as lightly. And yet, somehow, it punches Prince's guts worse than the previous shouting match. "I know you want to be with your Mom, I really do! Despite her abandoning you, and being okay with you constantly dying, and causing you... and everyone else here a huge load of physical and emotional pain, and everything. But I just got back on speaking terms with Brother, and I don't want to lose him again."

Another beat of pause and a softer, quieter:

"I think you out of everyone here can relate."

And he does. Blood and Darkness, the scariest thing is... that Zagreus truly does. Being with Thanatos is never easy, especially when he holds a grudge, but being without him is somehow always worse. He is pyracantha even among other denizens of the House: sharp, impenetrable defense for those he chose to grow around - and a plethora of piercing thorns to anyone else. And it's all too easy to get out of sync with the weaving of thorned branches and be left bleeding. 

"I understand," Zag finally manages, letting go of the cloak. Sighs heavily. "I'm... sorry. For putting you through all of this."

Hypnos catches of the implication, as he turns back, giving him a lopsided grin.

"Yeah. Same here," and adds before going through the veil of Darkness, separating Prince's quarters from the rest of the House. "Take care of yourself. And him."

Zagreus is left alone. And for the first time in forever, he actually feels like it. There's so much to process, so many thoughts, battling for his attention like his Olympian relatives that force him to choose - and he's notoriously known for being bad at it. So much so that he just stands there for a long time, staring at his hands, each consecutive thought adding to the garbled mess of the previous choir. Was he right, there? And even if he was, does it justify him? And if he wasn't, what does he do? Is there anything he even can do? And among those things that he  _ can _ , which ones he  _ should _ ?

It doesn't take long for everything to be lost in static and him to blank out completely. The room fades, the world fades, he doesn't blink, he doesn't think, he doesn't breathe.

It's like that particular eerie moment before the blood-red of Styx comes back with rushing warmth, and leading bubbles, and will to live, yet it's dragging on and on, and on.

Does he exist, in a state like this?

Does he have to...?

Something pinpricks him at the left earlobe, more startling than painful.

<Snap out of it...!>

The sensation jolts him awake, dimmed colors of his room come crushing back. Zag shakes himself like Cerberus after bathing, rubbing his ear absentmindedly (he'll think of it; definitely; but later). Forcefully, he makes himself to make a step. Then another. And then one more. It's not much, but he's moving. If he's moving, he can do something. If he does something - anything, really - he doesn't have to think. He can hide in the current moment and exist in it only. 

So he walks forward, passing the veil of Darkness, and into the House. It may be selfish, childish even. A stupid, egoistical desire to get affirmation from someone (anyone, at this point, really) else. Just a hint, even the smallest sign that he, his side, his point also have sense and are just as valid would be enough. 

The harshness of Megaera's voice makes him stop dead in his tracks, finally making a conscious effort to take in his surroundings:

"...but, how can you do this to me? Blast your Mirror. By taking sides with him, you're standing against me...!"

Huh. Fates have a funny idea of fulfilling one's wishes, it seems, because this isn't what he really wanted when he wished for affirmation. Yet, here they are. 

"Neutrality ceases to be an option when a crisis rises to a certain point, Megaera," Nyx replies mildly to Meg in front of her, calm as ever. She reaches down to hold the Fury's cheek with the tips of her pale fingers. "You, yourself, shall have to choose allegiances. I have steadfastly told you this throughout our shared ordeal."

Meg riles back from her touch, frowning and tightening her grip on the whip's handle. 

"I thought that both of our allegiances were to this House, Nyx," Night Incarnate sighs quietly, lowering her hand, yet doesn't comment on that. Megaera pauses for a moment, scrambling for words, before continuing. "It seems I was mistaken." 

Her voice falters for a moment and she looks away, to the floor, before staring back at Night's golden eyes with a strength few would dare:

"Do you have any idea what sort of pressure I am under here...?"

This, in particular, is what angers Mother Night - for whatever reason. Zagreus doesn't understand what, exactly, Meg implies, but it looks like Nyx took offense in whatever those implications are, as the whole realm shakes in black-and-white flashes of primordial fury.

"Use caution with the tone you take with me, Overseer," she warns, as the Underworld coils and bends before her like the folds of her royally-purple peplos. "I am the mother of the Fates, themselves. I do not act by whim or by mistake. Mind your own station, and perform your role."

The First of the Furies grits her teeth but gives a reluctant nod. Nyx sighs again, her amber eyes glistening with knowledge too wast for any of them to fathom.

"All shall unfold eventually as it must," she adds more compassionately, probably to pacify Meg. "I like the intervening time no more than you."

The Fury scoffs, yet her expression gives off that grief is layered underneath all of the harshness and irritation. 

Zagreus stares at them for a silent moment more before dragging himself into the room, through into the courtyard, grabbing whatever Infernal Arm happened to be the first under his hand, and jumping out of the window.

He genuinely, unquestionably doesn't want to think.

So he goes to die instead. 

Frankly, that's preferable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'm sure it's going to be fi-i-i-ine, and Zag will be completely up to the task and reach the Temple of Styx in no time! The lad's fine. Right?
> 
> On a not completely related note: would anyone be interested in a sort-of spin-off story/stories set in Than's past? Thanatos' depiction received very positive feedback I wasn't completely ready for, if I'm honest, and I wanted to share some more of my thoughts and headcanons. I'm overthinking this game so hard, that I have some of them planned out and part of them even partially written. The problem is, this fic is very... hm, self-driven, I'd say, and does its own thing by now. Sure, I'm along for the ride to write it down, but sometimes it makes it harder to plan things beforehand.   
> Those stories I'm talking about were part of this story initially, but now I'm not entirely sure how to weave them in in a way that won't feel jarring or forced, so I'm thinking about spin-offs since I've already written part of them. So yeah, there's that.


End file.
